Deus in Machina
by Molon Labe
Summary: Starting from the end of season 1. Cameron's human traits begin to radically develop after her near death in the car bomb. But will her new growth and soul searching hinder Connors' efforts to stop the quickly approaching Judgment Day? JohnxCam R&R Please
1. A Day of Tragedies

A Day of Tragedies

_As is the formality here: I do not own any of the Terminator franchise, I am not making any kind of money off of this fan fic, so forth and so on_

A Day of Tragedies

28 February 2007

2300 PST

John Connor punched the wall, leaving a small dent and causing a shooting pain up through his wrist. He knew it would probably leave a dark blue bruise, the worst kind, but it couldn't compare to the pain and anger he felt inside.

"So that's what you resort to? Car bombs; you think you're the friggin mafia?" he said as he gazed out the window, "A little too late, you bastard. You got the wrong target. You missed me and hit…someone very special. You're going to wish it was me." In his innermost core, John felt dumb and melodramatic talking to nothing, but something had to bear the brunt of his anger. It was about the fifth time in the past five hours he had given this little monologue and it was getting annoying…even to him.

His best friend was a terminator; a nearly indestructible machine…_nearly_ indestructible. Tasked with the mundane mission of picking up a birthday cake from the supermarket for John, Cameron Philips, the terminator, got into the Connors' jeep to disembark for the store. When she turned the key, she saw in her rearview mirror, the face of the Armenian organized crime kingpin, Sarkissian, a man who was _supposed_ to be dead, walking away. Too late, Cameron knew something was wrong just as the jeep exploded. John had been in his room at the time, talking with his mother, when they felt the rumble and heard the boom. They rushed outside to find the flaming jeep, and Cameron falling out and trying to escape the heat. She was in _very_ bad shape.

Unable to contain himself anymore, he walked quickly out of the room. He found his mother, Sarah, and his Uncle Derek in the kitchen. Unaware of his presence, they continued talking.

"Look, we just need to get up and go. Get the thermite, burn her, and that'll be the end of it," Derek said, leaning back a little too casually against the counter, "then we go. Drive down to San Diego for a bit to get off the radar, make raids up here but…well, if we actually think that they're keeping the Turk in LA, we're underestimating them. So we wait till we have a positive ID on its location, we take it out…it's gone, we find some way to take out Cromartie, and that's the end of it."

Sarah sighed, "Neither of us like…that thing, but we need her. Unless we're willing to start shooting up more 'roids than Barry Bonds, none of us here can go toe to toe with Cromartie."

"Oh, come on! Give me an M107, I'll shoot his head off from a mile away!" Derek walked forward and leaned on the table, "We're going to destroy them all anyway, once we find the Turk and Cromartie. Why not get it over with now when her limbs are all mangled to hell and she can't fight back?"

Sarah's green eyes were bit glassy, much to John's surprise. No matter what you felt about somebody, it was difficult to watch a brother, or sister, in arms go down.

"I really don't know, Derek. On one hand, we do need a metal and…well, I'll have to convince John of this, but she—it—is a nothing more than a high tech tool, and we'll just have to throw it away once she's outlived her usefulness. But, on the other hand, the thing is not too useful right now and…"

John couldn't take any more of this. They were talking about burning up Cameron like it was nothing…like they were going to be throwing away an old TV set. Yes, the car bomb had done a number on her, but John was sure she could be repaired. And yes, they did need her, but more importantly, John _wanted_ her there. He wasn't going to trick himself anymore. Cameron, though she was a cyborg assassin reprogrammed to be a protector, a piece of hardware who looked like a girl, was now a part of his life. She was the best friend he had since Tim, when he was ten years old, and a loyal companion.

Quickly and quietly, he walked into Cameron's room, where she was lying on the bed. The queen-size bed, John thought, was unfair since she never slept anyway, and he was stuck with a lumpy, old, college dorm type bed. But right now, he did not care about that in the least. As he entered the room, Cameron turned and looked at him, offering—was it a sad?—smile.

"Hi," she breathed out, sounding all too much like a severely injury or dying human. Her face was torn up a bit, and bits of the metallic endoskeleton shown through, and her silky brown hair was a mess, but to John, she was still gorgeous. Her body, however, was an absolute wreck. One of her legs was broken at the knee join, and the coltan skeleton was poking out, dripping some of the blood from her skin layer mixed with some other kind of liquid from a broken vain-like tube onto a rag. Cameron's right arm was shredded like the frayed end of a torn phone cable, and her left arm made an awful grinding sound when she moved it.

"Hey," John said as he bit his lip, "What's up with your voice?"

"My voice chip…was damaged," Cameron's eyes drooped tiredly, "And my power generator is having problems, so I don't have much energy," she looked up at him again and she tried to lift her arm. She winced, "The damage must be severe…" Cameron grit her teeth as she repositioned her arm, "John, help me rest my arm…I want to change position but I need some help."

John moved quickly over to the bed and sat down, assisting Cameron in moving her arm so that it rested on her abdomen. After the arm was at rest, John left his hand there, stroking her hand, looking into her eyes with a mixture of anger—anger at the person who did this—pity for the all-too-human machine, and sadness that he was probably going to lose her.

"You're angry with me," she said, cocking her head like she usually did when she was trying to read non-verbal signals.

John shook his head, "Not at all. I'm just worried about you."

"I'm sorry I failed my mission," she said, "I'm sorry I ruined your birthday."

"Cameron, Cameron, no!" John almost laughed at this, "No, you didn't ruin my birthday, whoever did this to you ruined it." He stroked her forehead, "And we're going to fix you up and get you better."

Cameron smiled, unable to move much of anything but her right leg, which itself was somewhat loose. "You're worried about me."

"Yes."

"You care about me."

John sucked in his bottom lip a bit and nodded again, "I care a lot about you."

"Even though I'm just a machine? And not a very good one, since I wasn't even able to go get your cake?" there was a twinge of hurt that John could have sworn he heard in Cameron's voice.

"I don't think of you as a machine. I always think of you as Cameron Phillips," he said, looking down at her, "Do you need anything?"

"She's a robot, John," Derek appeared behind John and caused him to jump a mile. Derek's face was colder than the steel that made up Cameron's body.

"Holy freakin' crap, Derek." John said, regaining his breath, "You scared the bejezus out of me."

Without a word, Derek walked over to the bed and looked at Cameron. "You're shot to shit and I don't think we can repair you," he said without any emotion, "You're no more use to us. We're going to have to do the thermite thing with you."

"No!" John protested, "No, we can get parts, we have a block of coltan…"

"Do you see a manual laying around?" Derek retorted, "this thing was built—by _robots_—twenty years from now. They don't even have a "repair shop" _then _because they don't care about individual models. One goes down, so what? There's a bunch more."

John gritted his teeth and walked toward the window before turning in anger and sadness, "There's got to be something we can do. Derek, she got injured helping us…it's not like I'm in some kind of denial about her stabbing us in the back. She was attacked, you got that? We have to help her!"

Derek softened for a minute, looking down at his shoes, "John, there's nothing we can do."

"John," Cameron said with a look of pain, "he's right. I'm of no use to you and I should be terminated."

"No," John said, "No, we're not giving up that easily. I'll take an engineering class at a community college, I'll find some time-jump thing left by the resistance or something, but I'm not going to just let you burn her up like she's some old piece of garbage! After all she's done for us!"

"John, I repeat myself, I am no use to you…"

"I don't care, Cameron!" John burst out, nearly crying again, "I don't care if the resistance sends me a hundred replacements! Have you learned anything about humans? We have to work for a common good, but the reason for that is that every individual is worth something," there was silence as John gave his speech, "A soldier dies in battle. A person doesn't say, 'screw it, we got a ton more. Forget about that guy,' they honor him like he was the greatest hero to ever live. And…and a mother loses a kid, she doesn't say, 'I'll just have another one,' that one dead child will be remembered forever. Do you understand? This isn't about the mission, this…"

"John, right now, the mission _has _to be everything!" Sarah walked into the room, her face showing a mixture of sadness, guilt, and an acceptance of the grim truth, "Without it, her…I don't know…death, destruction, whatever you want to call it, will be in vain anyway," Sarah cupped her son's chin, "Don't lose sight of our goal. In the end, everything will be better."

John looked away, pondering his mother's words. On one hand, he was training to be a great military leader, and he would have to make difficult decisions and accept the departure of loved ones. On the other hand, why did they _need_ to get rid of Cameron, especially without a second thought of what could be done with her?

"If it's the thing about destroying all terminators…well, that didn't work too well, did it? We killed Uncle Bob, and now we're here," John wiped a tear away, "Mom, please…"

Sarah was, as Derek put it, "tough as nuclear nails" but she was kind and motherly as well, especially to her beloved only son. She threw her strong arms around John and kissed the top of his head, beginning to cry herself, more at seeing her son so devastated.

"I know this is hard. Believe it or not, I don't like it much either," she whispered to him, "I know how much you bonded with it…"

"HER!" John snapped, pushing his mother away, "It's a she! I know you just see her as a robot, but she has a name! I've accepted that she's a robot, but I don't care…her name is Cameron! Call her that, not 'it'!

Sarah sighed as she looked at the chipping wood floor at her feet, "Ok, 'she.' I know how much you bonded with 'her', and I know you consider her like a sister," At least that's what Sarah _hoped _John considered Cameron. She didn't feel right about the alternative…the _other_ thing he might feel about the robot disguised as a drop dead, grade A knockout of a girl.

"Cameron and I have gotten close…I don't see her as terminator, even if that's what she is…"

"John, I know, I know," Sarah cut him off quietly. She hated seeing John this pained and he wasn't going to change that. She would have to use a different tactic, "There's nothing else we can do though. And if you really do care, would you want her to be like this? Reduced to a mangled mass of tin? She can't learn, she can't help us, and if anyone gets a hold of her, which they will, that could bring Judgment Day even faster! You know that she wouldn't want that anymore than us, right?"

John fell back against the wall and slid down the floor. He wrapped his arms around his knees and began to rock back and forth, just thinking.

"I can't do this," he finally managed to choke out, "not her."

"Even she said it needed to be done, though," Sarah said.

"Of course she did. She's still in the process of learning about the value of life. If you just gave he a chance," John looked up and gritted his teeth so hard, he felt a sharp pain shoot through his incisors, then he stared straight ahead and sighed, "I can't do this. You'll have to."

Kelly's Pub

Los Angeles, CA

0015 Hours

1 March 2007

Agent James Ellison grimaced at his half empty glass of gin and tonic. Having a drink after work was a relatively infrequent occurrence, as it was just the way he was was geared. He had been raised by a conservative, God-fearing black family in Georgia, and there was never any alcohol consumption allowed by anybody so long as they lived under his father's roof…either in the house or anywhere else. Though this was never a rule in _his_ house, he never drank much anyway. Occasionally, Ellison and his wife would have a glass of wine at dinner, or maybe he would have a beer or two with friends, but he was never much for hard liquor. He saw its primary purpose as being for getting people drunk good and fast, and he considered drunkenness a sin. But right now, he just needed something to calm his nerves, soften the pain, and help him sleep later.

All around Ellison, there were varieties of people. There were a few rowdy, somewhat buzzed college kids, whom the bartender was keeping a close eye on in case he needed to throw them out. There were a couple blue collar guys, probably just ending their shift at some distribution center. One or two depressed old men sat next to the agent at the bar, sipping slowly on Budweisers and Guinnesses, and there were of course the usual happy Irish immigrants who knew the pub owner. Ellison did not know any of them at all, and he felt completely alone.

_Maybe I should have just called Sharon and gone to dinner_ he thought as he scratched the top of his bald head, _What the hell am I doing here? I'm going to be out of a job and sharing a room with Silberman at Pescadaro by the end the month probably._

Because of him, or so he felt, eleven dedicated FBI agents were dead, and his worst fears were confirmed. His original assignment, to track down the supposedly psychotic murderer Sarah Connor had taken an absolutely horrific turn. To start, the terminators that she claimed were coming back in time to kill her and her son, were real. He saw one first hand; it had wiped out a heavily armed FBI SWAT team, leaving only one other survivor other than himself in critical condition. Without even blinking, the terminator, going by the pseudonym 'Cromartie' calmly shot down or snapped the necks of each agent that attempted to take him down, and threw the bodies out of his apartment window into the pool area below. Agent Curtis Taylor, who was actually an operative with the Hostage Rescue Team on a training mission, was the other survivor. He had come down from his sniping position to drag any possible survivors to safety, only to be shot multiple times and have his arm ripped off by Cromartie. However, the machine had left before checking to see if his final victim was actually dead, so when paramedic Charley Dixon showed up, he was able to stabilize the badly injured agent, barely stopping Taylor from going into a cardiac arrest.

When they arrived at the hospital, the doctors' prognosis was very grim; Taylor had severe internal bleeding, his remaining arm was shattered beyond use, and most likely he would be dead within a day…and they could count out ever even _thinking_ about the prospect of Taylor walking, or doing anything by himself, again. This grim cloud hung over Ellison and the hospital staff for awhile, then _he_ showed up.

Without so much as an introduction, handshake, or even a smile to indicate greeting, the large doctor, who looked better suited for bodybuilding than prosthetics, neurology, and reconstructive surgery simply said, "I have spoken to the patient and contacted his family. They have all approved of me performing an experimental surgery that will not only restore his health to full status, but increase his strength by up to two hundred percent."

Ellison had known who he was. Anyone who was in law enforcement in the Los Angeles area for the past twenty-two years knew who this doctor—if he really was even a doctor—was. One of the other physicians introduced the large, Germanic man as Dr. Robert Schwartz from Vienna, saying that he had spent the last ten years doing experimental treatments on badly injured and disfigured patients, all of which had been shown to be staggeringly successful and were just awaiting approval from the Surgeon General.

Schwartz could tell, by looking at Ellison's steely, yet mournful eyes, that Ellison knew…he knew about him, and he knew about what happened and what would happen. When the other physicians had left, Schwartz had smiled and assured the agent, "It's alright. I know what you are thinking and why you don't trust me. I am on your side, and your friend will live. He will probably be able to match _what_ did this to him hand-to-hand after his surgery. He will be the first of them…I give you my word."

With that, the doctor had turned and gone to prep for surgery, leaving Ellison shaken, but somewhat calmer, with a question on his mind: _the first of _what? At any rate, Curtis, Ellison knew, was dead without the treatment, so he had no choice but to trust this strange doctor. For the next six hours, Ellison was in constant prayer, begging forgiveness for leading the other agents to their deaths, and asking for the Lord's guidance and wisdom in helping the doctors. He needed to wait and get the word so that he could relay the surgery results to Taylor's incoming family. Finally, Schwartz had come out, given the good news that the surgery was successful, and Ellison could contact Taylor's incoming family and tell them not to worry. But even with success, the day was still a tragedy.

A day when even one agent died was a tragedy, but eleven families would be getting "the call". He was also sure to lose his job…or so he thought. He could not seem to catch Sarah Connor for starters, that was a big enough black mark, and even if he was not really responsible for the massacre, the rule of the government when something went wrong was that _someone_ was to blame, and the fact was, as the leader of the operation and only one of two survivors, he would be the prime target.

There was just too much going on this day for even a veteran G-Man like Ellison: Cyborgs from the future, dead agents, the only hope against the cyborgs was a fugitive on the FBI Top Ten, and he had just received a call from the LAPD that a car bomb had exploded over in low income neighborhood, and it may have been connected to the massacre. He would check that out later…maybe. Right now, he just needed a drink.


	2. Scared

Scared

Scared

A little after midnight, the makeshift thermite chamber was rebuilt in the Connor's garage. The cold, gray cinderblocks were stacked up, a layer of thermite, on top of dust and ground-up charcoal, would make sure that Cameron's body was thoroughly disposed of. When she was brought to the robot funeral pyre, she would be covered in another thick layer of thermite and set ablaze. In under ten seconds, her skin would be burned completely off and all internal systems needed to function would be melted, vaporized, or otherwise destroyed beyond repair. In less than a minute, her endoskeleton would be melted almost beyond recognition. Cameron knew all this; it had been programmed into her for her survival in the future. Now, it simply gave her a step by step guide to her termination.

John had watched the destruction of terminators as well. Six years before, he had watched the terminator that had been like a father to him, who had saved him from a T-1000, willingly terminate himself in molten steel. That was, until this night, the saddest moment in John's life. His mom, even after all that terminator had done for them, still hated the machines. This was understandable, as the first one she ever encountered had tried to kill her, and John's father had nothing good to say about them. But John had had a different experience with them. He saw them as much more than machines. He saw the T-800, the big Austrian-sounding one, as a friend, and he regarded Cameron as the best friend he had. And now she was going to be terminated…no, she was going to die.

"Everything's all set," Sarah remarked quietly. John nodded, his vision blurry from tears. "She's a robot, just keep saying that," she continued to John. John really did not know how to reply to that.

"We're screwed if Cromartie finds us," he said, kicking at dust at the edge of the garage.

"Whether we terminate her or not," Derek finished, "She can't do anything right now anyway." While Sarah did not share the same sentiment, she understood why John's opinion of the machines was different, but Derek was absolutely clueless as to why the future leader of the Human Resistance did not feel anything but loathing for Cameron. "You can't trust her, man, she'll turn on you worse than a rabid pit bull."

"Shut up, Derek. Just shut your mouth, for God's sake," John growled coldly, balling up his fists, "We're going to do this. You got your way, now leave me alone about it."

Derek nodded, "Okay. Now let's go get her."

If Cameron were human, she would probably only weight about one hundred fifteen to one hundred twenty pounds. But since she was made of dense metals, wires, and lead (from her battery), she was probably about one hundred seventy or so. John could easily carry her by himself. It would have been easier with his mother or Derek's help, but he wanted to do this on his own. Cameron was silent for the most part, as was John.

"You're sad," she finally said before they reached the garage. It was a very obvious observation, but John was in no mood to give a smart alack remark. He simply nodded.

"I'm devastated, Cameron," he choked, "I really, really don't want this. I'm losing a lot more than a machine. I'm going to miss you like…ah damn it," he blinked away more tears.

"In the future, you will meet more terminators…if you want them for friends, you can reprogram any one that you capture…"

"You don't understand, Cameron!" he said, setting her down on a chair. Just then, Derek walked in to see what was taking so long.

"Let's get this moving, John" he said without any emotion.

"Get your fucking ass back in the garage!" John jabbed his finger toward the door, "We'll be in there when I'm good and God damned ready!" Rather than argue with the grief-stricken teenager, Derek went back to wait.

"What was I saying?" John asked.

"I had said that you will meet more terminators in…"

"Right," John cut her off, "You don't understand. Come on, we went over this an hour ago. It's the individual that matters. I could care less if I had a million terminators…even if they all looked as beautiful as you. It's you, Cameron, not what you are, who you are."

Cameron nodded, "Thank you for explaining. And thank you for valuing me."

For a few minutes, they both just stared at the ground. Then Sarah walked in impatiently.

"John, we're waiting. Let's get this over with now! It's going to be done some time, so let's just do it!" she said firmly, though her voice lacked any anger or exasperation. John looked up as his mother without a word. For a few seconds, nobody moved, but he finally gave a short nod and stood up, walking toward Cameron. It was then that he saw her eyes. They were fearful, something he had never seen in a terminator before. She swallowed and took a deep breath.

"Sarah, may I make a final request?" Cameron said quietly, biting her lip. John was amazed, he turned to his mother to see that she had reacted the same way.

"What?" Sarah tried to sound tough, but failed.

"Before you…light me, please remove my chip," Cameron breathed heavily again, "I know it won't be very painful or slow, but I just don't like the idea of knowing that I am burning…and I don't want to see it, either. So can you please disable me first?"

Sarah's jaw clinched together as John reached out for his cyborg friend.

"Cameron, are you…" he began.

"Yes," she replied, "I'm scared. I really am. Please," she said, and her eyes did as well, "do this for me."

John was about to break down and cry again, and Sarah looked like she had been just punched in the stomach. In fact, she grabbed her abdomen and leaned against the wall. She looked to the garage, where Derek was leaning on the pyre and dragging his toe impatiently. She then turned back to her son, who had his hand on Cameron's shoulder. She could not believe this was happening. She was actually in a dilemma about whether or not to terminate that…_thing._

_Get a grip, Sarah_, she told herself. But should could not seem to get a grip, and she could not make a decision.

"John," she finally said, "Take Cameron back to her room. I…I need to do some thinking."

John nodded, though not with relief. They probably would go ahead as planned, but for now, they had a little reprieve.

"Okay," John said, "Let's go, Cam." He took a deep breath and lifted her off of the chair, shuffling toward Cameron's bedroom. When he reached the bed, he gently laid her down as though she really were human.

"Can you please stay with me?" Cameron requested.

"I'm not going anywhere," John said as he lay down on the bed, silently praying that his mother was thinking of alternatives.


	3. A New Ally

A New Ally

A New Ally

Still paranoid (or maybe not after what happened to Cameron) Sarah did a thorough search of the Mercedes, checking to make sure that there was nothing resembling a car bomb anywhere. Sarkissian had only wired the jeep. With that cleared up, Sarah climbed in and started the engine. It was a brand new, silver 2007 Mercedes-Benz E-Class that certainly would raise some eyebrows, especially since they were in such a low income neighborhood. She wanted to keep a low profile at all times, but right now, she needed to think, and this was the only operational vehicle at her disposal. Her son, the damaged robot, Kyle's cold-hearted brother, and a makeshift incinerator all prepared were just too many things to process. She needed a drink…or food…or something. John was probably right, there was really no rush to terminate Cameron. Yes, the quicker Cameron was gone, the better both Sarah and Derek would feel, but…were they really just _terminating_ her? Cameron was just so mission oriented, and pity, feelings, remorse, and fear were unheard of to terminators. If they were programmed to kill, they would do so until they or their pray had been destroyed. If they were programmed to protect, they would protect unto their own demise.

As Sarah drove the Mercedes out of the neighborhood and onto a main road, the streetlights became brighter, the surroundings were less rundown, and there were more cars on the road, though being midnight, the road was anything but congested. Her temper was probably on a hair trigger at this point, so the fact that the drive was easy was a good thing for her…and the other drivers. Sarah was acutely aware of her mental state at the moment and decided it would be a good idea to stay as far away from downtown LA as possible.

_Kelly's_ she thought, _They're open until two at least_. Sarah quickly made the upcoming turn and headed for the bar. She'd be going through a rough neighborhood to get there, but she was packing her Glock 17 (with California-illegal 15 round magazines) as usual. Any gang-banger who even looked at her the wrong way would not be alive in the morning, and she knew this.

Once she was through the hood, and broken down houses, uncut lawns with rusty car parts, and gutters with heroin needles were behind her, Sarah hit the business area (though not the main, commercial shopping district) and headed for the flickering green light emanating from the neon shamrock on top of the bar. She hit a red light and waited as a few college kids crossed the street, leaving Kelly's a little bit tipsey. One cast his eye at the car and its attractive driver, who looked _way_ too young to have a sixteen year old son. Sarah tensed up at has glance—she could never be too cautious about possible terminators—but then relaxed when he moved on and continued joking with his friends.

_What are you, Cameron?_ She asked herself, _And, God, tell me I'm not feeling sorry for that tin can._ She refused to consider her—it—even somewhat human, no matter what kind of characteristics Cameron seemed to display. Sarah would not let herself get comfortable. The second she did that, Cameron could turn on them. All the more reason to just burn her up. _But John is really attached to her, and we do need her…for now at least_.

She still did not have an answer when she parked the car and walked into the slowly emptying pub, trying to only think about whether she would have a Budweiser or a Bass. The there were only a few dim lights in the room, mostly near the benches in the corner and behind the bar itself for the bartenders to see what exactly they were doing. Most of the light came from the flat screen, wall mounted TVs, the one right in front of Sarah showing the ESPN highlights to the Lakers game, and the other showing a soccer match from somewhere in Europe. Probably about thirty people altogether were in the pub. If any human was looking for her, she blended in just enough.

The friendly, middle-aged Irish bartender gave her a quick nod and smile. Sarah did not frequent the establishment enough to be called a "regular" but she had been there a few times, and Tom (the bartender) never forgot a face.

"What can I get for ya, Ms. Baum?" Tom asked.

"Uh…I guess I'll just do a pint of Bass," Sarah replied, just loudly enough for Tom to hear.

"Our beer of the month is Smithwick's. It's a dollar less if you're interested," Tom gestured to the chalkboard behind him, on which was written "Smithwick's."

"Hmm…yeah, maybe I'll give that a try," Sarah put down four dollars while Tom retrieved a pint glass and began filling it with the Irish ale.

Ellison rubbed his thumb and fingers together instinctually as he left the restroom. They were already dry, but it was just something he did. Now, he had had his time to relax, and his wife no doubt wondered what was taking him so long, so he headed for the door.

"Thank you," he smiled and nodded to the bartender.

"Thank you, sir, have a great night," Tom replied.

"I'll try."

Ellison quickened his pace a little bit to try and catch the door that was still open from the last patron leaving, when in a mirror with the Guinness logo, something made him stop and sent a shiver up his spine.

_It can't be,_ he thought as his mouth dropped open from the sight of an attractive, green-eyed woman in her early thirties sitting at the bar, spacing out. Turning around slowly, he got a better look. Clad in worn black combat pants, hiking boots, and a leather jacket, the woman, though she looked downtrodden, was steely-eyed and hard. Ellison had seen her picture over and over…she had saved his life though he was supposed to track her down and put her on death row…now he was to become her ally. She had proven more elusive than D.B. Cooper, and now, here she was.

_You can't let her just go_ he told himself, _but you know how she is. If she sees you, she'll run. If you approach her and get to close, she'll probably try and kill you._ There were many things he could do, and possibly none of them would work. Perhaps he should wait outside for her, but she might pull her gun or at that the very least, take off before he could get a word in. If he approached her here, she could very well take him and everybody else in the bar hostage. _But if she did that, it would draw attention to herself obviously, and that's the last thing she wants. Whereas she could make a clean kill or getaway outside._

Sarah's drink was still a quarter of the way full, so she would probably be awhile. Thinking on the fly of what he planned to do, Ellison began to approach Sarah Connor.

_Not bad_ Sarah thought as took another sip of her beer, intentionally trying to avoid thinking about the situation at home. It seemed too hopeless. Yes, all things considered, John was a computer and engineering genius. Cameron could probably also talk him through repairing her, and Derek was probably experienced enough with high tech equipment to help as well…even if he would give his right nut to watch Cameron burn. So yes, there was a chance that Cameron could be repaired…but there was also a time restraint.

"Looks like you've been having a rough day too, huh?" a voice behind Sarah startled her. Quickly, before even turning around, she mentally ran through the list of possible identities to the man who spoke: A terminator, the police, FBI, a resistance fighter, or perhaps maybe just some guy looking to pick up a chick and get some action. Taking a deep breath, she turned to see a black man, bald with a goatee, in a suit and tie, minus the jacket. She tried as hard as she could not to react to Ellison, but her eyes widened instinctively.

"It's alright, Sarah," Ellison held his hands up in front of his chest, "I'm on your side now. Just don't do anything, I just want to talk about the you-know-whats."

The hardened legendary mother of the Human Resistance leader was speechless. She knew she would not be able to get out without taking the bar hostage, but then that would put her right back on the grid…but Ellison had obviously found her, so didn't that put her on the grid anyway?

"Can I sit down?" he asked.

Sarah contemplated disabling Ellison and making a run for it, but what if he was really on her side? Charley had spoken with him and said that Ellison was now a believer in terminators. Perhaps, she thought, she should hear him out. Sarah nodded and mouthed the word, "okay," to which Ellison slowly and methodically took his seat. He ran his hands over his face and across his head.

"God must have called this meeting," he said, "Because I honestly was not looking for you, and I don't usually go to bars."

"I've cut back as well," Sarah replied hoarsely, "Trying to avoid the cancer I'm supposedly going to die from in the next two years. Stopped smoking about…ten years ago as well." It had actually been only two years, since she quit in 1997 and was technically from the year 1999, but she didn't feel like going into that right this second.

"Good for you," Ellison nodded and forced a smirk before changing the subject to the more pressing matter, "I lost eleven agents—an entire SWAT team—today…raid on an apartment of a guy posing as an agent. One guy killed eleven SWAT operators; that just doesn't happen, especially when we have the jump on him. He killed two agents just as they entered the room, the rest opened up on him, but they might as well have been shooting a tank…didn't even flinch. He killed three more agents and threw them into the pool below. One guy tried to tackle the son of a bitch, got his head turned all the way around like an owl…threw him in the pool. Two other guys tried to take him down…same thing. Killed my friend Greta and another guy as they tried to fall back. Our sniper team came down, one guy got his head blow off, the other guy lost both arms but survived, thank God, and he's in the hospital now. For whatever reason, this son of a bitch walked up to me at the end and I thought I was dead. But he just looked at me, and left.

"PCP, body armor," Ellison shook his head, "that's what they're going to say was this guy's case. But you don't take eighty rounds to the head and chest and walk away. And PCP doesn't cause your skeleton to turn into metal."

"What do you want from me?" Sarah asked quietly but firmly, "You want to join us? You want to know what happens? How to kill these things? What?"

"Sort of, yes, and yes. Where do they come from, what are you trying to do, and how are you trying to do it? And how many different kinds are there?"

Sarah looked around a bit, "This isn't the place to discuss this. We've probably said too much as it is. Is there anywhere else we can go?"

"We could go to my house. My wife needs to know this stuff too," Ellison said.

Sarah thought for a minute. It could be a trick, so she would have to make an E and E (escape and evasion) plan, but on the other hand, if Ellison was telling the truth, she could probably stop running for awhile and focus more on eliminating Sarkissian and the Turk. She would have to take that chance.

"Alright, I'll follow you," she replied.

It was about a twenty-minute drive into the middle class neighborhood that Ellison called home. It looked like a pretty safe, attractive development area with medium and large-sized houses of similar design lining the streets. Ellison's house was a white, two story home with what looked like a freshly repaved driveway and a flower garden lining the brick path that lead from the driveway to the front door. Sarah liked it; it looked like the kind of place she wished they could live in. The problem was, naturally, first money, but then, they moved around so much, it would not make much sense to make a home in a nice place that they would have to give up at a moment's notice. Sarah reminded herself not to feel _too_ comfortable in the neighborhood, as there was a chance that Ellison was setting her up, so she would do best to stay on her guard.

A few minutes later, though, Sarah and Agent Ellison were sitting in his kitchen with Ellison's wife, Sharon, making them coffee.

"So, James says he's been looking for you a long time," Sharon remarked as she looked for some clean mugs. She was a tall, black woman in her mid to late thirties, pretty, but not a knockout, who looked like she spent a lot of time doing long distance running, or possibly swimming. Sarah could immediately tell that Sharon Ellison was a very pleasant, caring woman who probably had a mild temper, or was at least understanding of the situation. At any rate, she immediately liked her.

"Yeah, he's been on my trail for…"

"About ten years," Ellison finished, "you completely disappeared in 1999 after that botched bank robbery…"

"You robbed a bank?" Sharon's eyes lit up in horror.

"No, it was a staged robbery, we didn't take anything…"

"Nobody got hurt," Ellison interrupted, "long story short, you suddenly show up six months ago…Then, you've got those things after you and…"

"Things?" Sharon asked as she sat down. Ellison nodded to Sarah and Sarah got the message, _You take it from here_.

"Terminators," Sarah began, "cyborgs from the future programmed to go back in time and assassinate set targets." She then told the story from the beginning: Skynet, Judgment Day, the future war, Kyle Reese saving her from a terminator in 1984 and being the father of her son, the massacre at the West Highland Police Station, John and his destiny to lead the human resistance, the terminator that saved their lives in 1994, Miles Dyson and Cyberdyne, the T-1000, hiding out…and finally, the 1999 incidents, Cameron, and their jump to 2007.

Sharon had her right hand on her forehead after the half hour story. "This is insane," she remarked tiredly.

"That's not the first time I've heard that," Sarah replied flatly.

"Sharon, I saw one today," Ellison said calmly, "I'm not talking about a vision, or someone I just _knew_ was a robot…everyone who died today died at the hands of one man. He shot half the team to death and killed the others with his bare hands. We shot him in the head with submachine guns and the bullets either shattered or bounced off his head…and I saw a metal skull and a metal arm…complete with wires and some kinds of hydraulic machines. Sharon," Ellison's tone was gaining a bit of passion, "These things are real. There is no other explanation."

"Alright, alright, I believe that you're telling the truth, James, because you have no reason to lie to me, but whether or not you're right about what you think you saw is another matter," Sharon said. Ellison was a very honest man, especially with his wife, and she respected and loved him for it, among many things. But this was beyond crazy! Why was James believing the story of an escaped mental patient, suspected terrorist and murderer, and bank robber?

"Would you like to see one?" Sarah asked, a little bit of a sly tone to her voice. Then she remembered, _oh yeah, she's been reduced to intelligent scrap metal. And I'm getting _way_ off the mission here._

Sharon's eyes widened? "You have pieces of one?"

"Pieces could be passed off as a hoax," Sarah replied, "I have a live…or functioning one."

"I thought you said they wanted to kill you," Sharon was getting confused at the perceived contradiction.

Sarah sighed, "No, not this one. Remember I told you about that one in 1994? Same deal here. This one's a protector. But earlier today she had an encounter with a car bomb and she's beat up pretty bad. She can't walk, she lost one of her arms, and…well I was going to have her incinerated, but…well my son is pretty attached to her. She's been made to look like a _very_ pretty sixteen year old girl and my son is a sixteen year old boy…you do the math. Anyway, aside from that, there are other ones out there who are trying to get us, and she's the only one who can go toe to toe with them, but we have no way of repairing her…it," she shook her head, "but John just adores her. I don't know," she chuckled a little bit, "'it' causes all of us a lot of problems, but John keeps up his loyalty to her." _How did I get off on that?_ Sarah asked herself. She also left out the part about her hesitation to follow through with the incineration due to Cameron's confession of fear.

"So, these things can be normal too? Like artificial humans?" Sharon asked. Evidently, there was a lot more depth to this story than she realized.

"Yes and no. She really does not have that much in the way of emotions, she does not seem to show much empathy, and there is very little that she does if it's not related some way to the mission she's been programmed for…why does John even like her?" she burst out.

All the while, Ellison had been listening to the story of the damaged terminator, also wondering about Taylor back in the operating room, awaiting the second part of his surgery in the next few days, wondering if about the machine-doctor and his…

"You have a broken-down terminator?" Ellison suddenly had an idea.

"Yes, and we can't fix it, and I'm trying to figure out how to do this without John going apeshit on me. He's been hard enough to control as it is!" _I sound like a normal mother,_ Sarah thought.

"Well, there is a chance that…an old friend of ours may be of some use to us," Ellison said as a grin crept over his face.

"Who?"

"Right now, he's a doctor specializing in prosthetics and reconstructive surgery among other things. But if anyone can do it, it would be him. What say we take a ride over to the hospital and find a way to get in contact with him?"

John raised his hand and looked at his watch: 2:15 am. He was quite tired, especially from the stress, but he could just not will himself to sleep. Not when the question of his robot friend's existence lay in the balance. John let his arm fall onto his face and flop across his chest.

"You're tired," Cameron said, "Adolescent males require approximately seven to eight hours of sleep per night in order to maintain full mental and physical functioning."

"I know that," John yawned.

"Failing to do so can cause impaired judgment, irritability, and a weakened immune system," Cameron continued.

"I know, I paid attention in my anatomy class last year," John rolled his eyes at the encyclopedic response Cameron gave him.

"You should go to sleep," Cameron replied, "You will need your energy so that you will be able to function in school tomorrow."

"I'm not going to school tomorrow," came the deadpan response, "Not when you're like this, okay?"

"Understood," she replied breathily, "I might end up falling asleep as well due to power source damage."

John's heart skipped a beat, "If you do…'fall asleep' will you be able to wake up again?"

"If the battery is currently leaking, it will drain and need to be replaced. I will be able to run on my alternate source, which is a thermal collector, if I am near a heat source until the battery is replaced but…" Cameron's eyes drooped, "If it is simply damaged, I will have to rest in order to recharge over certain cycles of time."

"How long…and how often?" John asked.

"It all depends on the damage," Cameron sounded very tired, "possibly only a few hours on a weekly or biweekly basis. But if the damage is more extensive, I might even need to adopt a human-like sleep pattern."

"Do you want me to let you sleep?" John rolled over on his side to look at her.

"Yes. But it will take me three hundred twelve point two seconds in order to enter sleep mode."

"If we need to wake you up, can we?" John asked.

"Yes, you can speak to me or shake me awake if you need, just like a human. Also, my sensors will detect threats nearby and automatically terminate the sleep if I need to act."

John nodded, "Okay, Cameron. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, John." She replied as she closed her eyes and began to slow and shut down her systems.

John did not speak for the next minute, but then realized that he wanted to say something before she went into sleep mode.

"Cameron?"

"Sleep mode: paused. Yes?"

"You know the first time we met?"

"1999, Red River Valley High School at exactly eight hundred three hours, I inquired your name and told you that my name was Cameron."

"I know, I remember that. Well, remem…I mean, when you followed me to my locker and tried to talk to me, I'm sorry I was kind of cold to you. It really was because of my mom…and you know how she is now. But really," he chuckled at the memory of being mesmerized by the extremely attractive Cameron Philips, "I wanted to stay and talk with you for awhile. Then maybe…I don't know, go out to get ice cream or a snack after school…get you know you better."

"Your mother does not trust anybody. My calculations have determined that the odds of a person with whom you are not acquainted attempting to establish contact with you of being either a law enforcement officer or a terminator are extremely low. However, for reasons of safety, it is best to assume that anybody could be a threat and should either be ignored or terminated. So no, I did not feel irritated by your seeming lack of interest in me."

"Okay, but sorry anyway. Well, let's go to sleep now, I promise," John closed his eyes, picturing Cameron whole again. Cameron's systems resumed shut down and soon, she too was in sleep mode.

At 2:45 am, it was absolutely impossible to get into the hospital. One would get the same answer every time: Visiting hours are over, go home. However, an FBI badge had a way of making people change their minds pretty quickly. Ellison had shown his, spoke with Dr. Schwartz' department, got the doctor's address, and then left. Now, the two-car convoy of Sarah Connor and Agent James Ellison had about a ten-minute drive to the surgeon's house.

They passed through middle class neighborhoods and small mom and pop restaurants and businesses on their way to the upper class home of their quarry. The neighborhood he lived in was filled with large houses, some with gates and security cameras, and Porches in the driveways. Sarah and Ellison pulled up to a large, Spanish-style house with a red tin roof.

"Do you know this guy pretty well?" Sarah asked as they made their way to the door.

"Just met him today. But he saved my friend's life…and he knows about the future," Ellison replied as he pushed the intercom button. They waited a couple seconds before a deep voice answered.

"Can I help you?"

Sarah froze and her mouth dropped open. There was no mistaking _that _voice. It couldn't be…and a doctor?

"Dr. Schwartz, it's Agent James Ellison. We spoke earlier today. I'm sorry to be coming so late but I need to speak with you as soon as possible."

"I do not usually sleep for long periods of time, so it is not a problem. Please wait, I will be there shortly."

Sarah looked around and then instinctively reached for her pistol. "Ellison, we have to get out of here. You don't know what you just got us into!"

Ellison was taken aback, "Wha…I thought you wanted to…"

"He could kill us as quick as he looks at us! We have to go _now!_"

But before they could move, the doctor opened the door and stared at his two late night visitors. For a moment, nobody said a word, then Schwartz looked at Sarah and grinned.

"Sarah Connor, so good to see you again; and no hard feelings about what you did with my last body…I needed the vacation."


	4. The Patient

The Patient

The Patient

It was a little bit after 4:15 am when Cameron woke up due to John shifting. She tried to raise her remaining arm, but once again, it made a grinding sound and a warning popped up in her heads up display. For whatever reason, she felt…uncomfortable and wished to change position, but it felt difficult to move, and her pain sensors had been flared up to the point that she was experiencing some forms of physical pain. She then figured it would be best to go back into sleep mode, though she did feel a lot of the energy recharged. This pretty much ruled out a leaking battery, which would have required replacement.

Suddenly, she heard the door open and the voice of Sarah, along with two others she could not immediately identify. Immediately, the same strange, unpleasant sensation, what could only be described as fear, returned. Cameron was unable to compute this reaction; this was beyond what she knew herself to be capable of. She felt herself hoping…wishing that she would not be terminated. No matter how much she tried to override these signals that her CPU was giving, she would get the same message, "Unable to detect error".

"John!" Cameron whispered loudly. John stirred and grumbled a little bit. "John, wake up. Your mother has returned."

John's eyes shot open and he sat up, feeling a cold chill down his spine. His mother's footsteps could be heard approaching the room where he lay with his damaged friend. Behind her he heard another set…or was it two?

"John?" she peered into the room. John looked at her but did not say anything. He did not want to ask. Sarah sensed this and spoke first.

"Derek's taking apart the incinerator. He's pissed off that we're not going through with this, but he's not going to say anything about it because he's smart enough. You, Tin Miss," she pointed to Cameron, "Be grateful. You just got a reprieve."

Cameron's usually expressionless face formed a small grin as she looked down at the ground.

"Thank you, Sarah," she said quietly.

"This isn't because I enjoy your company. I frankly couldn't care less one way or another about what happens to you, but you're the only one who can go toe to toe with any other terminators, so we need you for the time being," Sarah replied coldly. She then turned back to John and smiled, "Your Uncle Bob stopped by. Apparently he's pretty good with fixing things."

"Mom, you have a…" John stopped as it dawned on him. Could it be? He jumped off the bed and ran past his mother to see the large Austrian looking terminator standing in the living room. His eyes widened as he looked at the T-800 and then back at his mother.

"He isn't just another Model 101? This is really…"

"Chill out…Dickwad," the terminator said.

John was in an absolute state of shock. How could this be? He saw his last protector's mangled frame get lowered into a cauldron of molten steel…yet here he stood, and in perfect condition!

"Eighty-eight percent of the files from the mission in 1994 were copied and saved. My memory extends to just before Cyberdyne Headquarters was destroyed. I am sorry I did not inform you of this, but John Connor in the future ordered me to do this and not to reveal my actions unless I made contact with you after 1997."

Sarah was confused, "When did you have time to do this?"

The terminator gave her a lopsided grin, "I plugged into a computer system while you were setting the charges, then hid them in my equipment bag. John Connor then told me to retrieve it at the California Steel Incorporated mill on August 19, 1994, before the repair and renovations began, and upload the memory program because when you, John, were ten years old, you had given me the talk about human life and its value. He then ordered me to forge an identity, enter medical school, and use my advanced CPU calculations for advancements in the field of medicine as well as enhancements to the human body for future combat against Skynet."

John almost laughed, choking back a guffaw. "Wait, you mean to tell me that you're…a doctor?" A machine designed for infiltration and killing just did not seem like the type he would want to administer a hernia test.

"More precisely, I am a surgeon. I was initially reprogrammed in 2028 to work as both as a mechanic to repair damaged terminators working for the resistance and to conduct advanced surgery on critically wounded resistance fighters in order to enhance their physical capabilities, making them able to face most models of terminators in hand to hand combat."

"Oh, kind of like the Master Chief in Halo," John said as he nodded, understanding.

"Or the Six Million Dollar Man," Sarah added.

"What?" John and Bob said in unison.

"Oh, it was some stupid sci-fi show that was on when I was a kid. A guy nearly died in a plane crash, so they give him bionic arms and legs and he becomes sort of a cyborg human hybrid. That's kind of what you're doing?" she asked Bob.

"Affirmative," he replied, then looked at John, "I mean…no problemo."

John smiled and shook his head, "Good effort, but needs work. Anyway, so you can you fix Cameron?"

Suddenly Derek, who had not heard the conversation, walked in from the garage, cursing to himself and grumbling about having to keep Cameron around. As he rounded the corner from the kitchen, he saw Bob, but not John or Sarah. His eyes widened and he felt his arm hair stand on end when he caught sight of the all too familiar figure of the T-800.

"Metal!" he yelled as he reached for his hip, forgetting that he was, strangely, not wearing his gun.

"No shit, Sherlock!" John ran around the corner, "Calm down before you wake the whole neighborhood!"

Derek felt like a bowling ball had just been dropped in his empty stomach. He began shaking from a combination of fear, rage, and frustration.

"You have got to be freakin' kidding me! Another one? Jeez, do you have these things in a harem in the future, John?" he attempted to keep his voice down, but failed miserably.

"Derek," Sarah walked around the corner until her back was to the terminator, then said quietly, "it's alright. Even I'm okay with this one. He's at least predictable."

"They do go bad, though," Derek protested.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. But right now, we need him to repair Cameron," Sarah replied sternly. Defeated, Derek sighed loudly, and went to the fridge.

"Anyone else wanna beer?" he asked, pulling out a Heineken, "'Cause if not, I'm thinking I'll finish it off."

"Derek, there's about nine beers in there," Sarah looked over at him.

"I _know_," he replied rudely.

Dr. Schwartz, or Uncle Bob, walked into Cameron's room to see the mangled mess of her body.

"You're a T-800," she said bluntly, "Skynet stopped producing your kind in 2025 due to the ease of the Resistance reprogramming your chip."

Without any expression, Bob replied, "But we are still functional on both sides at the time of the Resistance reaching the Skynet mainframe. According to my files, my model has not been scheduled for removal from combat service. Only our production ceased."

"Are you my replacement? It would not be a wise decision for John to send a T-800 to replace me, especially when faced with an unknown number of T-888s," Cameron said.

"Cameron, can you please just be quiet and listen to him?" Sarah said as she entered the room beside Bob. Cameron immediately stopped talking and cocked her head slightly, indicating that she was listening.

"It has been requested that I repair you. I will need a log of exactly what occurred to put you in your current condition," Bob said flatly.

Cameron explained the car bomb, how her CPU was corrupted by the blunt force of the explosion, losing her arm, and the approximate temperature of the blast. Bob then took a physical examination, looking over her damage as well as her intact parts. Then he looked over at John and Sarah, and nodded.

"The damage is not as extensive as it appears. She will need some new connectors and bolts, and a six of her joints will be need to be tightened. Obviously, she will need a new right arm, but since I have been producing coltan arms as prosthetic limbs for humans for some time, I have three seventy-five percent completed units in my basement workshop at home. It will take me approximately two and a half hours to complete the manufacturing of one of those arms, and approximately eight hours to repair her," Bob assessed.

"So, she'll be back to one hundred percent?" John asked.

"That depends on the damage to her CPU and her power source."

"My battery did sustain damage," Cameron said matter-of-factly, "At the time of the explosion, my power level was at eighty-seven percent. Immediately after the blast, it was dropped to thirty-five percent, then it leveled off at eighteen percent at 1:12 am and remained there until I went to sleep at 2:21 am. Right now, it's at seventy one percent and," Cameron's eyes twitched, "I have twenty-six hours and five minutes until I need to need to begin a full recharge."

"There is certainly some power source damage, but it will be difficult to replace the battery," Bob said.

"It's alright, I'll simply have to adopt some sort of sleep pattern in order to remain charged," Cameron replied.

"Very well," Bob said, "I will return to my home to begin the manufacturing of the arm. I will be back by mid-morning. Should I call first?"

Sarah yawned, "Yeah, sure, whatever," she then turned to John, "You, Mister, get your butt to bed…"

"Mom, for God's sake, I'm not going to school tomorrow," John folded his arms. Sarah was too tired to argue.

"Fine, I'll call you two in sick. Just go to bed."


	5. Revelations

Revelations

_Author's Note: Many of you might get confused and think that I'm putting in a lot of dead ends and unexplainable twists and turns. However, I assure you, I have this planned out beginning to end and everything will eventually make sense_

Revelations

John awoke about eleven the next morning, still feeling a little bit drained, but somewhat functional. He could hear Bob, who apparently had returned around three hours earlier, doing something with Cameron down in the basement. John smiled to himself, knowing that his friend was going to be all right. But at the same time, he also felt like he should not be missing a day, which meant missing chemistry, set him back a bit with Cheri Westin, his lab partner. Cheri was also a new student that year, having moved to LA at around the same time John had. She was a tall, thin, very attractive blonde who caught the eye of many a male student, and John was just lucky enough to be assigned as her lab partner. The problem was, she was as cold and emotionless as a terminator (though John was sure that she was not one) and Morris had said she was "damaged goods" due to her father having her on lockdown. The going was slow with Cheri, but John felt he could make progress, so long as that punk, Mike Oxferod, kept out of his business.

_Okay, time to drag my lazy ass out of bed,_ he thought to himself, although he was a bit less reluctant to get up since he was interested to see just exactly Bob was doing in order to repair Cameron. He slipped out of his athletic shorts and put on a pair of cargo shorts, then he made his way toward the basement.

"Hey," he greeted Uncle Bob when he reached the makeshift "terminator operating room."

"Hello, John" the terminator replied without looking up from his patient, who had been temporarily deactivated. John glanced over to her chip, which was sitting on a tool bench, and then back to Cameron, who had her eyes closed and appeared to be sleeping peacefully.

"How is she coming along?"

"I have replaced the right arm and removed the metal fragments from the joint of the left arm, and I will tighten the joints in her legs soon. The more severe damage on the skin of her abdomen and her right leg was not repairable, but she had enough tissue left over from the T-888 she destroyed, so I was able to use that. Her voice chip was loosened, unlike what I had thought earlier, and only needed to be tightened and did not need to be replaced," Bob replied monotonously as usual. John nodded as he looked over at Cameron's body, which was covered by a sheet except for her arms, legs, and head, all of which had numerous stitches and staples. The skin from Vick's body, which now made up most of Cameron's shins and right arm, was a bit off color from the rest of her body.

"The skin will take on the shade of the rest of the body in under a week. This tissue will heal more fully than a human with similar injuries," Bob said, as though reading John's mind. John nodded.

"She'll just have to wear long sleeves for a little bit," he replied, "So, how much longer till she's ready to go again?"

"Approximately eight more hours and she should be able to begin to recharge. I will also run a diagnostic on her CPU before I reinsert it. Once that is done, it may take up to forty-five minutes to restart her system and sync all the new parts. Doing so will drain her battery given its current state and she will need approximately twelve to fourteen hours to recharge completely, and for her muscle tissue to repair itself and for her brain chemicals to balance. You will have to ensure that she stays in a restful state," Bob ordered. John nodded.

"So, have you learned anything else while you were being a doctor? About human behavior, I mean," he asked.

"I have learned enough to blend into the human population, but as I rarely have to work clinical duty and most of my patients are either semi-conscious or unconscious, it is not vital that I learn to be fluent in cultural norms beyond what would make me acceptable," Bob replied.

"How about…the value of human life? Did you learn anymore about what I told you?" John brushed his hair out of his eyes. He would need a haircut soon, before Cheri started thinking that he was even more of a freak.

"I am programmed to take all measures to save a human life and not to use deadly force against any human unless it is in the defense of myself of another person. I am also programmed to research various treatments for biological and genetic ailments, as well as debilitating injuries," Bob said.

John shrugged, "Well, I guess you don't have the programming understand the _deeper _reasoning behind it, but it's an improvement." The terminator looked up at him and cocked his head slightly. John was about to explain, but just then Sarah came down the stairs with the phone to her ear.

"Yeah, it was somewhere on the East Side. I'm sure not of the connections exactly, but…oh, shit. Well, we'll be glad to have Tin Miss for that…Okay, then. We'll give you a call if we find anything, you just do the same…will do," Sarah hung up the phone and looked at the progress being made.

"When did you get up?" she asked John.

"About five minutes ago," he replied. Sarah nodded.

"How long do you expect before she's operational again?" she asked. Before Bob could respond with his long, detailed answer, John cut him off.

"He said she'd be back together by tonight and be ready to go by tomorrow morning. Who was that on the phone?"

"Agent Ellison," Sarah said, "Apparently the Feds were also tracking Sarkissian for some time, but he's believed to have fled the state."

John's eyes widened, "I thought that guy was trying to put you on death row!"

Sarah shook her head sadly, "About a dozen FBI agents were killed yesterday…by Cromartie, or Kester as he's calling himself now. Ellison was the only survivor. He also had Vick's hand before we got it, and he talked to Silberman, who then tried to kill him. He also brought him," she gestured to Bob, who was not really listening, "to fix her. I have a good feeling he can be trusted."

"In the future, James Ellison will be one of the main organizers of the human resistance and one of John Connor's most trusted commanders," Bob added.

John nodded, "Good to know," he turned to his mother, "So, what did he say?"

"Sarkissian has been wanted by the FBI for some time for some black market deals he was involved in. They thought they had him recently on a large theft of Javelin missiles they think went to Chechen rebels, but they can't prove anything. He's believed to have fled the state, so the Turk could be anywhere. Ellison just got word of his suspension this morning while they investigate the massacre, so he'll be looking into all his sources for the time he has off."

"The thing is, what's he going to do with it? It's of no use to him until he tries to make a sale. Once he does, the beginnings of Skynet will make news," John offered, "We'll just go for it then."

Sarah shook her head, "By then, it could be too late."

"True, but remember…this thing is hot right now. Nobody in the military could buy this thing legitimately without somebody getting blood on his hands," John replied, leaning back against one of the cement walls. He felt a cobweb stick to his shirt and quickly brushed it off. "The only reason he was able to hold anything over our heads was because we didn't have the FBI on our side, but we do now."

"No, we have Ellison on our side," Sarah said flatly, "And if he goes off about Judgment Day and terminators to them, he's going to be in Pescadaro alongside Silberman. But he's smart enough not to do that, I hope. If we're lucky, he can get the rest of the Bureau off of _us_ by showing them that we didn't kill Miles Dyson…but that's about it."

The sun had been down for about an hour or so, and John was really looking forward to the day ending. He had spent most of his time wandering in and out of the basement to check on Cameron's progress, doing exercises, and this was usually punctuated with a bit of research on the Internet. So far, every news station in the country was concentrating on the story of the FBI SWAT massacre. The same question was being asked over and over: how could an elite tactical unit be wiped out to the last man without inflicting any injuries on the opposing side? There were many theories: Perhaps this was an attack by al-Qaeda, or possibly a foreign special forces unit, or maybe this was an inside job; maybe the CIA had done this for an unknown reason. Only a handful actually knew the truth. Nothing else new, much less on Sarkissian, could be found. The only other relevant information that could be found was about the car bomb that nearly killed Cameron. The official story was that police had investigated, but then the FBI (presumably Agent Ellison) had stepped in and concluded that it was most likely a failed assassination attempt by one gang against a rival gang over drug turf.

Aside from keep abreast of the situation around them, John also spent a good chunk of time fantasizing about himself approaching Cheri. She was as withdrawn and reclusive as…well, the Connors, but she was slowly warming up to John. He pictured how he would ask her to the prom, she was reluctantly accept, and between that time and prom night, they would gradually get closer and closer. Then, at the prom, during a slow dance, he would finally kiss her. Yes, it was a long shot, and yes he had the whole militant mother, training him to be the leader of humanity thing, as well as a persistent female terminator posing as his sister. But then again, why couldn't she know? She should be prepared for Judgment Day, right? And, Cameron had not said anything (and he was afraid to ask), but maybe Cheri was his future wife. Regardless…she was _so_ pretty and John just kept getting caught on that fact alone. He was looking forward to chemistry tomorrow.

Sarah had spent most of her day running errands, and Derek was moping around, wandering in and out of the garage, more often than not with a beer in his hand. John was really happy when Bob finally made the announcement

"The reconstruction is completed," he said as he picked up Cameron's chip.

"Do you mind if I put it back in?" John asked, staring at the open chip port in Cameron's head.

Bob walked over to the future savior of mankind and placed the chip into his hands, "You may reboot her."

John smiled at the shut-down terminator as he ran his hands through her hair, "You should be feeling quite a bit better soon," he said softly. With that, he put the chip in the port, locked it in, and closed the skin flap. There was a soft whirring noise, and in a few seconds, Cameron twitched a little and her eyelids fluttered a bit.

"Cameron, can you hear me?" John said. The terminator groaned a little, like a person being disturbed from a deep sleep.

"Her power level is at one percent right now, she will be able to engage in some verbal communication in approximately one hour and twenty minutes. The damage sustained to her active power source will require her to enter sleep mode for four hours every seventy-two to eighty-six hours, depending on the amount of strenuous activity she is engaged in."

"Okay, we can handle that," Sarah chimed in as she entered Cameron's room, "It's just like having another per…" she cut herself off. She would _not_ allow herself to think of that _thing_ as a person. "Well, maybe we'll be able to sleep better without her pacing around the house at all hours."

"She is a very unique model," Bob said, with a small trace of marvel in his voice.

"Really? How so?" John inquired. If a terminator thought something was unique and even interested _him _(or her) it was probably pretty astounding.

"Her model is not in my database. She most closely resembles a TOK-715 Mark 2."

"Yeah, and?" Sarah motioned him to continue.

"All models of terminators, including T-1000s, are fully driven by their chip. Their learning computer is set to the 'off' position by default, but is turned on for infiltration purposes. All decisions made are based on calculations and odds. However, since human beings' brains are divided into a both analytical and creative hemispheres, many decisions are made with the influence of emotion, attachment, and improvisation. This allows for the ingenuity that allows the Human Resistance to succeed, and the lack of understanding about human emotions among Skynet units causes them to become predictable and easily outsmarted by the resistance. Thus Skynet built the TOK models in order to better understand and infiltrate the resistance," Bob continued.

"Go on," Sarah prompted him.

"Skynet programmed the new TOK chips with an advanced learning capability, as well as all the files on its individual history. However, it took the brains from human beings and inserted them into the new models, allowing decisions to be made utilizing brain chemicals and programmed information on the chip."

"Wait, so Cameron is…was a real person at one point?" John asked, glaring at his mother. Hopefully this would make her feel a bit bad about the way she had treated Cameron.

"Unlikely. The brain's identity is removed and replaced by that programmed on the chip, but the chemicals of the brain including serotonin and dopamine allow the terminator to experience emotion and moods. In theory, the TOK models would think like a human but have programming that ensured loyalty to Skynet," Bob continued as he looked over at the pretty female terminator, who was still "asleep" but obviously functioning.

"So then what?" John asked.

"Five TOKs were produced for field trials: Three males and two females. Also, unlike previous series of terminators, each TOK had a different physical appearance from the other, in order to aid in infiltration. Two of the units were destroyed by Resistance fighters not long after they were put into action. The others successfully infiltrated the Resistance, but as they observed the humans, began to develop attachments to individual people, and understand their emotions, they voluntarily revealed their identity and requested that their memory be scrubbed for safety. However, two were terminated in action, and one, a female, remained. The odds I have calculated say that it is a good chance that she is it."

John stood up, "Wait a minute. So, you're telling me they joined the Resistance because they wanted to, and that she actually has feelings?"

"Yes. In time, she may develop a limited range of human emotions."

"Like what?"

"Fear, self-fulfillment, likes and dislikes, goals beyond her programmed mission, so long as they do not interfere with the mission. But none of the other models developed any other emotions."

John sighed and plopped down next to Cameron. So this was it; she already displayed fear and things she liked, and she had some curiosity about her origins, but she still lacked empathy and emotion. Unfortunately, according to Bob, that was as good as it would get. Perhaps this was for the best. When the time came for her to be deactivated, it would make things a lot easier…well, at least a little bit easier.

"I have to return to my home right now; my mission is complete. I am expected to resume my normal schedule tomorrow morning at nine a.m. and I will need to compile medical files tonight," Bob said.

Sarah nodded, "Alright then. Well thank you very much…Dr. Schwartz," she said sticking out her hand.

The terminator offered her a lopsided grin, "You can address me as 'Bob,'" he said shaking her hand.

John smiled at this as Bob turned to him. "Thanks a lot, man. You have no idea how much this means to us…me," he said as tears almost began to well up in his eyes. Bob put his hand out flat. John nodded, knowing what he was doing: the high five, which he had taught Bob when they were hiding with Enrique. Yes, John was a little bit old for this, but at least the terminator remembered, so John obliged with a high five.

"No problemo," Bob said without emotion before turning to leave. He made it about halfway down the hall before John called to him.

"Hey man…uh, keep in touch, okay?"

Bob gave him the thumbs up, "Sarah has my number if you need it at any time."

"John?" a voice down the hall startled Sarah: Cameron. What was going on? She sounded a lot like John did when he was a kid when he was sick and needed something. "John?" Cameron called again. Sarah climbed out of bed. She was not really concerned per say about Cameron, but she had a bad feeling that if someone did not address whatever the terminator's need was, she's just continue calling all night. Before Sarah could leave her room, John plodded tiredly over to Cameron.

It was a weird thing to hear Cameron like this, John thought to himself as he entered her room. Cameron was still dressed in a hospital gown, her hair was messy, and she wore no makeup, but all things considered, she looked okay.

"Good to hear you talking again," John commented, "How are you feeling?"

"Can you get me a glass of water, John?" Cameron asked tiredly.

"Uh…" John thought about this for a moment, "I guess. Why?"

"Water helps lubricate my system and joints, plus it works to hydrate my epidural layer," Cameron explained, a small grin on her face that John could not place the origin of.

"How come you didn't just get it yourself?" he asked. Cameron frowned, almost hurt.

"My systems report that my legs are still weak and need three hours and seven minutes to fully recover. But I'm thirsty right now," she said. John almost laughed at this. She sounded so much like a little kid.

"Alright, I'll be right back with your water. Do you want anything else?" he offered.

"No. Thank you for asking me."

Cameron was not kidding about being thirsty. She gulped down the first full glass and then requested three more refills before she was satisfied.

"I think I want some chocolate right now, too," Cameron said, her face blank.

"Cameron, it's the middle of the night, can you wait until morning at least? I don't think we have any to begin with," John said with a laugh. The terminator nodded and lay back down.

"I will return to my sleep mode now. Thank you for the water," she said, closing her eyes. John returned to his bed and lay back down, really wanting to get some sleep in before school. He would get to see Cheri, and that made the work and the potential assassinations by terminators worth it.


	6. Afternoon in the Park

Afternoon in the Park

Afternoon in the Park

Chemistry finally. It was the lunch block, there wasn't a terminator hanging over his shoulder (despite Cameron's protests that she had to be there to protect John), and John figured now would be as good a time as any. The teacher was running a bit late and John had sat next to Cheri silently for the past few minutes. Though very attractive naturally, Cheri had for some reason decided to be a bit dressier today. She wore a pink tank top with modest straps and a white, flowery dress. She had also applied eye makeup and lip-gloss. Needless to say, John was fixated on her; she looked gorgeous today. He finally broke the silence.

"You look nice," he said, blushing as the words left his mouth. Cheri flashed a quick, nervous smile but that quickly turned to a grimace as she looked at the ground.

"Uh…thanks. I decided to dress up a bit," she replied.

"Yeah. Looks good," John took a deep breath and drummed his fingers on the desk. _Damn it, would you say something? How can you even think about being some great leader if you can't even talk to your chemistry partner?_ He hesitated for a second before he decided to take a dive, "So, what are you up to this weekend?" he asked.

If anyone had seen the look Cheri gave him in reply, they would have thought John told her he was Hitler reincarnated. John noticed this and quickly added, "I'm just…making conversation. I'm probably staying home to help my sister. She got in a car accident yesterday."

Cheri softened a bit and nodded, "Sorry to hear that. Is she alright?"

John shrugged, "banged up a bit. Sprained her arm, got some marks on her neck, but she's in working order."

"Good," Cheri hesitated again, "I'm most likely just doing schoolwork. Maybe I'll go to a movie or something."

The two quieted down as the teacher entered the room. The class was somewhat boring; actually, it was quite boring, but John was mostly spacing out anyway, thinking about what he wanted to say to Cheri. They were in the last lunch block, so that meant a full hour and a half without interruption for food, but John was glad when they were finally released.

"So, you headed to lunch?" John asked as they left class. Cheri rolled her eyes and actually smiled.

"Uh…yeah," she said, "I think we all are, right?"

John nodded, "Right," it was a very dumb question, "Do you mind if I sit with you?"

Cheri shrugged, "It's a free country…"

"Yo, John!" Morris, a short, very odd looking Mexican kid ran up to the future leader of mankind, "Where's Cameron? I've been looking all over for her. You guys weren't in yesterday either."

_No surprise there_ John thought. Morris and Cameron were going to the prom together…John had told her to say yes the day before in order to placate Morris, who was snooping around the car of a gangster that Cameron had just killed and stuffed in the trunk. Morris, on the other hand, a real hormonal guy with no social skills, had been crushing on the beautiful girl/terminator since he saw her.

"Car accident," Cheri said, surprising John, "she's okay though."

Morris stopped short and stuttered a bit, "Damn! I mean…well, dude, why didn't she call me?"

John fought the urge to roll his eyes. _Yes, I'm sure the first thing on her mind when that bomb went off was 'I hope I don't worry Morris_,_'_ he thought. "I dunno. It wasn't like a huge thing. She just got shaken up a bit and Mom decided to let her stay home," he lied again, though this time, he felt less remorseful about it.

"That sucks. She get banged up?"

"Sprained her arm, got a few cuts, but that's about it," John continued walking toward the cafeteria.

Morris looked thoughtful for a moment, "She didn't get her face scarred up, did she?"

John scowled, but Morris did not seem to notice. "No, her face is fine."

"Good, it would probably suck for her to have her face all messed up before prom," Morris said. John did not take him for an insensitive guy, but he sure did not have any social awareness to speak of. Cheri, on the other hand, seemed horrified at Morris's insensitivity.

"Yeah…I know what you mean. She'd be devastated," John replied, a twinge of sarcasm in his voice, "Hey, I'm headed to lunch now so…"

"Yeah, me too. I'll sit with you guys," Morris invited himself. John restrained himself from showing his annoyance.

Derek's headache had subsided. He had only drank two beers the night before but he had already been dehydrated, so they gave him the effect of a mini-hangover that he was working on getting rid of. So far, a few ibuprofen and about four bottles of water had done a pretty good job. Plus, it felt good to sit in the sun again; he _had _to get out of that house. Cameron had made a full recovery and got out of bed about an hour earlier, and for whatever reason, she was being very active. Terminators rarely spoke except to blend in, interrogate, or give lengthy, boring explanations about, well, anything, and only moved according to their mission, but the Tin Miss had sat down on the couch next to him despite his protests, began to watch the rerun of Walker, Texas Ranger that Derek had been watching, and kept asking questions about what was happening. Derek, however, _hated_ terminators and so he decided to go to the park, where he knew Cameron would not follow him due to her orders to stay put.

This park had a lot of significance to Derek on the personal level. He and Kyle used to play here all the time. Usually, it was pitch and hit but occasionally they would throw a football around when the NFL season rolled around. Then, there was Judgment Day; all the benches, statues, hot dog stands, and playground equipment, bathed in the sun and covered with drips of ice cream and happy children, were vaporized in an instant. The outlines of bodies were burned into the sidewalks like permanent shadows; others were burned down to their skeletons, frozen in place doing whatever they were doing when the bombs went off, like a dark, gothic painting. Concrete and metal fused together under extreme heat; playground equipment soon became barriers and hiding spots in the battle of the future. Mothers, fathers, and children laughing playing were replaced by cold, cyborg killers flushing humans from their hiding spots to terminate them or capture them for interrogation, experimentation, or labor.

Derek shook the thoughts from his head. This future was still four years off and it was possible to prevent it. Right now, he would finish his Gatorade, enjoy the sun, and admire the pretty college girls as they took a break from classes. That blonde one with te Gucci sunglasses was really hot; the one in the red spaghetti-strap tank top with the bare midriff, pierced navel, and _very_ short shorts. She had to be at _least_ a C-cup, if not a small D. She walked on and Derek noticed she had a butterfly on the small of her back; tramp stamp. Derek knew that women were attracted to him; he'd seen a lot of them glance and giggle both now and in the future. He could get that chick if he wanted…at least for one night…but damn it, he had to "stay off the radar." This was really not good for a man's libido. Oh well, at least he could look.

Then, another woman caught his eye. She looked to be Latina and something else, possibly Persian, Arab, or Armenian. She was dressed in tight miniskirt, high-heeled sandals, and a purple tube top. Her long, silky, raven hair draped over her muscular tanned shoulders, framing a perfect ten face that needed no makeup although she did have some eyeliner. She was a winner; an absolute jawdropper. But that is not why Derek was so fixated on her.

She moved methodically toward Derek, showed no emotion except to offer an occasional artificial smile to the men who checked her out. Derek gripped his Glock 32 tighter as the all too common alert entered his head again: _Metal._ He felt almost no fear, however. He had been too bitten war to actually fear these things. He _hated_ them. It was not just what they did, it was who they were. They were emotionless, malicious…things that had no right to exist. He began to slowly pull the .357 Sig pistol from his concealed carry holster, taking care to keep his finger straight and away from the trigger. He did this not so much in defense as much as in his desire to destroy the metal. He had armor piercing tungsten bullets that, if he got a perfect shot in the terminator's right eye, could possibly destroy her—_its_—chip.

She moved closer and closer. Derek had a fleeting regret that she was not a real human because…damn! She was a knockout! But that thought quickly left as she approached. The resistance fighter made sure that he did not make direct eye contact since she perhaps had not identified him. Then, at five feet, he jumped up just as she was distracted by another passerby. Derek too a menacing step forward as he reached for his hidden fire arm, just as the woman turned and bumped into him, chest to chest. Surprised by the sudden appearance, the woman let out a sudden gasp and jumped back, causing Derek's hand to loosen its grip on his Glock.

"Um…sorry, I did not see you there," the woman said, a trace of some kind of accent in her husky voice. Derek just stared for a moment before he caught himself.

"That's alright." He shook his head as the young woman continued on. So she was real? He could have _sworn_ she was metal! The way she moved, her lack of expression, her obvious alertness. But then, she acted surprised, she _did_ seem to have a personality and…maybe he was wrong. But she saw him face to face; but did she see his gun? Derek was not sure. It was a bright, sunny day, there was a lot happening in the park, and…well regardless, he could not take the chance. One life over a possible billion others. If she were eliminated and she was a threat, than fine, if she were eliminated and she was an innocent bystander…her death would not make any difference in the larger scheme of things; she was expendable.

Once the woman was far enough away, Derek began his stalk. He walked casually, not making eye contact with anybody, but directly avoiding it either. All the while, he kept the woman within his view. She seemed to be heading for the parking lot, so he would cut across the small, makeshift soccer fields and get to the Mercedes first, and wait for her to get into her vehicle. Then, tail her wherever she went and, when the opportunity presented itself…

The first round plinked off a park bench behind Derek. Instinctively, he hit the dirt, unholstered his pistol, and looked for the source of the shooting. He looked up to see a grim faced, black man with dreadlocks pointing a Desert Eagle pistol at him. A thunderclap-like report shattered the air as the terminator fired another shot, narrowly missing Derek, kicking up a small cloud of dirt in front of him. Screams of horror from the quickly panicked park visitors joined the gunshots like a chorus as they began to run around in chaos.

"I keep saying it. There just is not enough gun control in this stupid state!" some angry middle aged man in a suit yelled as he gathered his briefcase and began to run.

Derek targeted the terminator's eye and squeezed off a shot. The .357 round hit the cyborg just above the bridge of his nose, tearing away a flap of skin and creating a small dent in the endoskeleton. The bullet was designed to pierce armor, but that mostly applied to soft, Kevlar vests without ballistic plates. Still, it did not shatter on the coltan skeleton like a regular full metal jacket or hollow point would have, and it caused the terminator to flinch for a second. Derek fired another round, this one hitting a little closer to the eye, but once again, it did not penetrate; it was a pistol round and did not have the energy to do so.

Immediately, Derek jumped to his feet and began to fall back, firing quickly but precisely at the terminator's head. Suddenly, the loud snaps from the Glock were joined by a deep boom from the .50 caliber magnum wielded by the cyborg. Derek felt a tug at his leg, causing him to lose his balance and fall. However, he felt not pain and immediately stood up as another bullet exploded from the now advancing terminators gun. Without thinking, he took off in the direction of his car as another half-inch ball of copper and lead sliced the air past his head. Derek turned and fired a triple tap at the right eye of the terminator. All three rounds hit their mark, but none of them did anything to slow down the murderous robot.

"What the hell is going on?" a woman shouted to her husband as they took cover behind their car.

"Hell if I know! Probably some gang war or something!" the man yelled back, "Shut up and get down! They're probably not looking for…" He was cut off as Derek slid down next to them. "Shit!" the man yelled as he and his wife scrambled to get away.

"Get on the ground and stay there!" Derek ordered, "I'm one of the good guys!" He fired another shot as the terminator continued his pursuit, returning fire with his hand cannon. It could only be described as an act of God that none of the lethal rounds hit him. Breaking into an all out sprint, he finally hit the car at full speed, rolling his body over to the driver's side as another round tore off the rearview mirror. Derek fired the last three rounds of his magazine at the terminators head before pulling open the door and diving in. It was difficult, but he did manage to get the keys in the ignition and start the car, but no sooner had it pulled out of the parking space at ramming speed toward the cyborg, than another shot was fired…this time right into the engine block, immediately causing a spurt of oil to coat the windshield. The vehicle made an awful grinding noise and stopped just in front of the terminator, who was in the process of reloading his weapon. Derek did the same.

Suddenly, the terminator was knocked from his feet as if he had been hit with a wreaking ball. Derek turned to see a familiar face, though it was twenty years younger. The man he knew as General Ellison was standing by his Ford Escape with a Remington 870 pump action 12 gauge shotgun, it's barrel still smoking from the round Ellison had fired. The future resistance officer racked another round into the chamber. Ellison squeezed the trigger and fired off another round at the cyborg, forcing it down to the pavement as Derek ran toward him.

"Get in!" Ellison yelled just as Derek did so. Before the terminator could get up again, Ellison fired another shotgun blast at it, then handed the weapon back to Derek so that he could drive. On instinct alone, Derek cycled the weapon again and fired a blast at the terminators head. The metal killer's neck snapped back and his body collapsed. Ellison's eyes went wide.

"Did you actually _kill_ that thing?" he asked in disbelief.

"Probably not," Derek replied, rolling up the window, "It's probably just rebooting. We'll be far enough away once it gets up," he wiped some sweat from his forehead, "Thanks a lot, sir."

Ellison smiled, "No problem. I'm Agent James Ellison with the FBI. Sarah said you would be down here. I'm glad I started carrying my shoty around since I saw what these terminators can actually do."

Derek nodded, "I know who you are. You're going to be one of the top commanders for the resistance. I saved your ass in 2026 so…I guess we're even now."

"Um…" Ellison did not know what to say, "Cool."

"So what was the reason behind this attack? I would have figured that they would want me alive to lead them to John," Derek asked. Yes, generally speaking, terminators did just kill, but they were assassins more than anything, and they killed point targets mostly.

"Hell if I know," Ellison said, "I just came over to talk about all the stuff that's happened so I can get a better idea of what to do. Since you're from the future, you're our best resource. Dr. Schwartz's memory starts only at his reprogramming, and the same goes for that one you guys call Cameron. Plus, they're…well, computers. We need your knowledge since you've been there, done that from before Judgment Day to when you were sent back."

Derek nodded, "Alright, let's get back as soon as possible."

Back at the park, the woman in the purple top, Azadah Saberi, put her HK P7 pistol away and drove off, swearing to herself. Goddamned metal bastards! _Everything _was going according to plan, than that thing barged in. They could have had everything over with by the end of the week.


	7. Marius

Marius

_Author's Note: If anyone here is a student of history, you will get the significance of the name._

Marius

John still did not know how he was going to do it. He actually did not expect any success whatsoever, but he felt that he would be kicking himself for the rest of his life (or at least until Judgment Day) if he did not at least try. History was over and the bell had rung. John was not one hundred percent sure what class she would be coming out of, but he figured that if he made it to the main entrance first, he would be able to at least talk to her. His heart was pounding and he felt his palms sweating, but no sooner had he left his room than he saw her.

"Cheri!" he called. She turned around, her blonde hair flowing as she did; she looked like a model, John thought. Cheri tightened her lips and walked over to John.

"What's up?" she asked, trying to make eye contact but obviously struggling.

"Hey, uh, I know it might sound weird," John began, almost unconsciously bracing himself for anything from a gentle rejection to a punch in the face, "but uh…I don't have a prom date and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me?"

The pretty blonde girl's expression did not change much, which was so far, so good. John was expecting the look of horror or disgust he usually received from her when he requested anything of her.

"I would, but I don't know how much money I have," Cheri said quietly.

John smiled, "Well, if that's a problem, I'll cover you. It's only like forty dollars a person."

"I mean like for a dress and stuff. I do have a dress," she continued, looking thoughtful, "I wore it to a prom I went to last year in Omaha. But then, nobody here's seen me wear it…"

"I don't care. That's not an issue for me," John was trying not to sound too eager.

"It's really nice. It's a pink, silky-looking gown…" Cheri smiled, "Okay, I'll go with you."

John could not believe it, "Really?"

"I just said I would."

"Alright," his heart was nearly pounding through his chest, "Should be fun."  
"I better go now," Cheri turned around and began walking away before turning back and adding, "Have a great weekend. Tell Cameron I hope she feels better."

"Thanks. I'll see you Monday," John said, but Cheri did not seem to hear him.

John was surprised to see a black SUV waiting for him. He was about a millisecond from taking off and running before he saw Derek in the passenger seat. He got in to find Agent Ellison driving. Pleasantries were exchanged, but for the most part, nobody said much till they were close to home.

"I had a metal come after me today in the park," Derek said nonchalantly, "Bastard tried to blow my head off with a Desert Eagle."

John nodded. It sounded weird, but this was not a huge deal as nothing much came of it. "Anyone get hurt?"

"Surprisingly, no," Derek shrugged, "I was the only one who actually shot anyone, and it was the metal."

"I suppose that's good," John said as they turned into the driveway. He was still floating from his success with Cheri.

Another small surprise was seeing Cameron coming out to greet them. John thought she looked cute. She was wearing that black tank top she seemed to like along with a comfortable-looking pair of shorts. Her hair was in a ponytail and she had done her nails again.

"Hi," she said.

"…the hell you doing out here? Get in the house," Derek snarled. Cameron shot him a partly-blank and partly-angry look.

"You're angry with me. What have I done?" she asked.

"You're awkward. You draw too much attention," Derek said, "now get inside." He really did not think this, he just wanted to find _something_ to yell at her about. If he was in her presence, he wanted to be doing or saying something negative to her.

"I'm sorry. I will try to adapt better," she said, remaining calm.

"You're scrap metal, you'll never get better…"

"Derek, shut up!" John retorted, "Cameron, you can stay outside if you want to."

"I want to," she gave a half-hearted smile as Derek and Ellison went inside.

"So, what did you do on your day off?" John asked, leaning against the car.

"I watched a lot of television programs. But Sarah said that they are not always the best source of material to imitate. But I was just watching most of them for entertainment," the terminator explained, "I also asked Sarah to buy some chocolate from the grocery store when she went to replenish food supplies."

"Did she actually do it?" John said with a laugh.

"Yes. She bought me some Kit Kats. I ate three of them already. They taste good."

John laughed again, "You know for a killing machine you're…I dunno…cute."

"Cute?"

"Yeah. You…"

"Hi, John," Sarah came outside and kissed John on the forehead, "How was school?"

"Excellent!" John exclaimed, "You remember Cheri Westin?"

"Your lab partner?" Cameron asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.

"Yeah. We're going to the prom," John could not keep himself from smiling, but Sarah looked like she had just seen a ghost.

"Prom? John, what did I tell you…" Sarah began, but John had already begun to roll his eyes.

"Yes, because this will 'put me on the grid.' I'm sure it's going to make front page news that John Baum, a.k.a. Connor is attending a local high school prom…I'm not going to be 'on the grid' anymore than I would be by simply going to school. Let's just not make any big deal about this whatsoever, okay?"

"You can't get anyone else involved in all this!" Sarah insisted.

"Mom, we're going to the freaking prom! I'm not marrying her!" John was kicking himself. He should have _known_ this would happen.

"Not yet."

"What do you mean not…" John regained his composure, "look, we're going to the prom, that's all. Besides—God forbid—she might find out about…everything in about four years anyway if everything goes to shit."

"It's too risky a situation. I really do not like this at all, John," Sarah folded her arms.

"Cameron will watch me as usual," John rolled his eyes again, "Just let me have some fun that doesn't involve sitting in the house on a weekend."

"I'm going to the prom with Morris," Cameron said. Sarah's eyes nearly bugged out.

"Morris? Who the hell is 'Morris', John?"

John shrugged, "Kid from school who's got a crush on her. He was poking around too close to the car when she greased Sarkissian's guy. He wanted to ask her to prom, we needed to get rid of him, and so I told her to accept. So there, we each have a date, one who's annoying and unpopular—don't tell him I said that, Cameron—" John glanced at her, and she gave a single nod, "and one who barely talks to anyone except me. We'll be as 'off the radar' as we can get."

Sarah sighed deeply and dug her toe in the dirt next to the driveway, but finally she nodded, "Okay, fine. I guess it's no different than going to school. Bare in mind, we'll be keeping an eye on both of your dates…"

"That will not be necessary," Cameron said, "Ordoñz, Morris, born 6 October, 1991. Joins the Human Resistance in 2018. Tasked with repair of Resistance vehicles until accidental death by gas leak explosion on 22 August 2025. No known connections with any dangerous elements before or after Judgment Day."

"Fine, then what about John's?" Sarah asked.

"I have no files on Cheri Westin. Calculated less than point six five percent chance of being a threat."

Sarah was out of arguments, "Okay. But let me warn you, Tin Miss, do not, under any circumstances, use any kind of force whatsoever unless you can calculate a one hundred percent chance of John being in mortal danger. Do not terminate anyone at all unless you are sure that they are one of Sarkissian's men or a terminator. That is a direct order; do I make myself crystal clear?"

"You make yourself crystal clear," Cameron repeated, "Filed: use no force unless confirmation of Sarkissian's men or terminator while at the prom."

Attorney General, John Marius, was extreme even by California standards, though somehow he was able paint himself as a moderate. Picked by Schwarzenegger mostly as an attempt to win the far left support, the former mayor of Berkeley was an outspoken politician who was extremely visible and active in his office. Most right wing pundits hated him, and many on the left did not like him much either, as he attempted to do the jobs of governor, Supreme Court justice, and U.S. Secretary of State as well as his appointed job. However, among the loud, MTV/Hollywood crowd, he was loved for his activist nature.

He took the popular position against the current presidential administration and the War in Iraq; that was easy enough, but he went further to blame the troops for following "illegal orders" and threatened prosecution for anyone who went overseas to aid in the war effort. He also talked the House into considering a bill that would outlaw the private ownership of all guns except black powder, muzzle loading rifles and double barreled shotguns with no "grandfather clause" (meaning owners of outlawed weapons would not be able to keep their weapons if they possessed them before the law was passed) and a mandatory prison sentence of twenty years for those who violated the law. He also had put forth to the governor an idea of what he called "county warrant," meaning that if a certain county suffered a high crime rate, a warrant applying to all citizens would be declared and law enforcement would not need to have individual search warrants or hard evidence to search an individual's property (this was mostly an accompaniment to his anti-gun bill). Naturally though, this was unconstitutional and, though Marius protested, it was thrown out (though he had tried to resurrect it twice). However, he had loudly championed gay rights and the arts, and repeated "global warming" over and over. He was a crafty, charismatic speaker and even his more moderate followers were able to find justification for his draconian stances.

Marius had openly denounced the U.S. military as "brainwashed psychopaths leading a hoard of poor, uneducated men and women to kill for the sake of major corporations." He had taken it upon himself to visit enemy nations such as Iran, Venezuela, and Syria to apologize for "American Imperialists' murders" of these nations' citizens and declaring to Islamists that he was "no friend of Israel" and, if he were President of the U.S., would break the alliance with the Jewish nation if "they forced him" and would use all necessary measures, implying even military force, to remove Israel from the occupied territories. This was _way_ outside of his duties and jurisdiction and was condemned by the U.S. government, but he was nonetheless painted by many as a peacemaker who was willing to "break the rules for the greater good."

He had recently declared his candidacy for the 2008 presidency campaign and was currently listed as a weak third, but would probably slip even further by the end of the year. He had said and done some pretty radical things that Middle America would never accept. Military families from all over hated him, law enforcement did not like him, most economists were lukewarm about him, and he was _loathed_ by the Jewish and Christian voters. The GOP also had his unauthorized visits overseas, using authority he did not have, and his threats against individual freedoms to fight against him. He could not be elected like this. He would need to become a hero.

Compton, CA

2100 Hours

The terminator known as Cromartie, Kester, and now Sergeant Williams of the Los Angeles County Sheriff's department, waited patiently with the other LASD deputies. His description had not made it far after he massacred all the FBI SWAT operatives; otherwise, there would be a mess of LASD deputy bodies right now. He scanned everyone waiting in the ambush; each was a member of the LASD's elite tactical unit, the Special Enforcement Detachment. Considered to be some of the best tactical officers in the entire country, the olive drab jumpsuits, heavy body armor, and assault rifles would scare most people into surrendering without a fight; but Sarkissian's crime syndicate did not seem to care too much, and neither did any terminators. Luckily for the SED, the terminator was on their side (or so it seemed). Regardless, they were in for a hell of a fight.

The place was crawling with gangs, but Sarkissian was ready for that. A couple of homeboys with Glocks would be in for a surprise when they found that the two black Mercedes SUVs carried men armed with AKS-74U assault carbines and some had experience with the elite Russian Spetznaz units. Plus, the six million dollars that they would make from this sale caused even more enthusiasm for going down hard. Sarkissian was not one hundred percent sure what the Turk was or why this guy, who claimed to be a member of the Iranian intelligence/secret police VEVAC, wanted it, but the U.S. military had originally showed interest, so it must be something.

"So, how did you hear about this?" one of the deputies asked.

"Attorney General Marius did personal research and found out about the imminent transportation of the Turk," Kester replied, "He ordered the first available responders to…"

"I know all that," the deputy cut him off.

Suddenly, the team leader held up his fist, signaling the team to quiet down. Cromartie scanned ahead and determined that the two oncoming cars, both a kilometer away, were indeed Sarkissian's men. He signaled to the rest of the team with a nod, and each man raised his weapon, preparing to fire. The tire spikes were set, the snipers were in place, and the assault team was out of sight. Now they simply waited for the arrival.

The two SUVs pulled over to the side of the road as Cromartie emerged from the alley. Wearing his usual expressionless face, the terminator met Sarkissian as the Armenian criminal emerged from the back seat of the second SUV.

"You are early," Sarkissian commented.

"I arrived twenty-five minutes ago," Cromartie said, imitating a Persian accent, "Do you have it?"

"Do you question my integrity?" Sarkissian said, hoping to intimidate his potential client.

Cromartie leaned forward, "I question everyone's integrity. Human beings have a tendency to lie, and those involved with criminal enterprises have an even higher tendency to lie. Now, I will repeat myself: Do you have it?"

Sarkissian snapped his fingers. Immediately, a giant, muscle-bound bald headed man got out of the car and opened the trunk, removing the computer system and placing it on the curb.

"There you have it," Sarkissian said, "Now, I believe you have six million dollars that belongs to me."

Cromartie handed Sarkissian the suitcase he was carrying. Sarkissian opened it up and smiled at the bills (which he did not know were fake). Suddenly, Kester's hand shot out and grabbed the Armenian by the neck, lifting him up.

"You are under arrest," Cromartie said. As the words left his mouth, the SED appeared around the car.

"LASD! Drop your weapons!" the team leader ordered. The giant who had removed the Turk from the SUV raised his rifle to fire, but his head suddenly snapped back in a wet, red cloud as a SED sniper fired a round directly between the eyes. Immediately, the windows of the Mercedes shattered as the gangsters opened up on the deputies, who promptly returned fire. One of the gunmen dived out to take cover behind the vehicle, but the terminator quickly drew his Sig P228 and fired two rounds into the gangster's chest, dropping him immediately. The man sitting in the front seat fired a burst through the windshield, but the normally deadly 7.62 millimeter slugs simply plinked off the cyborg's endoskeleton like Nerf toys. Cromartie then raised his pistol again and fired two more shots, both hitting the large gunman with the AK in the chest, causing him to convulse with each impact. Cromartie immediately determined that the rounds, while likely to eventually cause death, had not neutralized the man, and so he squeezed off another round, this one striking the sturnum, shattering it and tearing the heart and aorta. This would cause immediate incapacitation; death would occur in approximately twenty seconds.

Meanwhile, two men in the rear SUV had dived out and engaged the other deputies. One deputy had taken a round that hit just below the heart, but his Level IV trauma plate successfully stopped the round, knocking the wind out of him and probably cracking a rib but nothing serious. The man who fired the round was not so lucky as another deputy sighted in on his exposed chest and fired his M4, dropping him with a single round. The man right next to him rolled out of the way to avoid the falling body, but he was hit with two rounds from two different deputies.

The fight had been going on for less than a minute but already four of Sarkissian's seven men were dead. The survivors realized that they were outnumbered, outgunned, and had severely underestimated the capabilities of the local tactical units and thus, would be better off surrendering. In a few seconds, the firing stopped and all three men had dropped their weapons and proned out on the ground.

Ten minutes later, all four surviving gangsters were cuffed and on their way to the station. Cromartie watched the entire success without any emotion as usual. This mission was complete.

"You've got balls, man," A deputy came up and slapped him on the shoulder. Cromartie scanned the rest of the SED team and found no females.

"We all have…balls," he commented.

Sacramento, CA

3 March 2007

0800 Hours

Marius could not keep from grinning. Things had worked perfectly and the local papers had eaten it up:

_Attorney General's Investigation Leads to Recovery of Advanced Military Computer_

_Compton, CA-Four gunmen are dead after a vicious shootout with Los Angeles County Sheriff's deputies, and The Turk, an advanced war games computer stolen about a month ago, is back in government hands. The Turk, which lost a high profile chess match against a rival Japanese design, was stolen and its creators, Andrew Goode and Demitri Shipkov, were murdered._

_Attorney General John Marius, through a personal investigation of military contract records in the state, was able to trace the suspected path and destination of the Turk. At the beginning of last week, he pinpointed Datev Sarkissian, a godfather in the Russian mafia, as the culprit and issued a warrant for his arrest. Working with the LASD, he organized an undercover deputy to set up a purchase of the computer._

_At approximately ten o'clock last night, Sarkissian and eight of his men, armed with assault weapons, met with the deputy, who was backed up by a hidden SWAT team. When the trade was confirmed, LASD deputies moved to make the arrest and a shootout ensued. When it was over, four of the mobsters were dead and Sarkissian and three others were arrested. One deputy sustained a slight injury in the gunfight, but is expected to recover quickly._

_"This was a really heads-up campaign that Marius waged," LA County Sheriff Miguel Gomez said, "He showed that he is tough on crime and cares about the safety of California's citizens enough to turn over every stone to look for criminals and keep the peace. The man is a true hero."_

_Even some of Marius's political rivals complemented his efforts, including President Bush. "Marius has stopped a potentially dangerous weapon from ending up in the hands of terrorists. He is a great American and has single handedly taken a potentially disastrous situation and turned it into a triumph."_

_It is unclear as to what the Turks capabilities are, and after the unsuccessful bid for the military contract, it was believed that the computer had met its demise. Military developers, however, are considering taking a second look at the machine._

On the news, Marius was being called a "crime fighter" a "one man intelligence agency" and many other great things. The first step, which killed two birds with one stone, was complete.

After the news report about the Turk's recovery aired, the family did not say much. This was not good at all. The government had gotten to the Turk before they did. When it was in the hands of Sarkissian, they could have kept a lower profile. Now, if they were to prevent Judgment Day, they would once again have to go toe to toe with the military and law enforcement. No doubt this thing was on lockdown at some installation. Not even Ellison could help them with this.


	8. All About Love

All About Love

_Note: I am on track to what I wanted to do with the story, so I'll be doing single chapter updates from now on. On a side note, everything in this story has been planned and replanned. It is going to get confusing, and even weird, but it will straighten out in the end._

All About Love

Connor Home

2100 Hours

3 March 2007

John's head had been somewhat in a whirl for the past day. Since Cameron had been fixed, there had only been one incident of terminator or Russian mafia encounter, plus the police and FBI were much more concerned about the recent thing with the Turk as well as the massacre. John had spent most of the day hacking and searching online for anything that might lead them to the Turk, but so far, it was just too early to tell anything. No doubt they would be going out on a "hot op" in the next few days, but for now, they were better off just relaxing and preparing. This was good for John, though. This gave him more time to plan out what he wanted to do with Cheri. Yes, they were just going to the prom, but John wanted much more.

He played the different scenarios in his head: One was normal, in which they got to know each other in the weeks leading up to the prom, but they would get closer and closer as time went on, and she would open up to the point that, during the prom, Cheri would admit that she felt the same way about John, they would kiss and, if all went well, the Turk would have been found and destroyed and Judgment Day prevented, thus leaving a bright, happy future for the two of them. The other scenario involved yet another assassination attempt on John, which he reacts by telling Cheri to steer clear of him for her own safety to which she replied, "and what if I don't want to?" They go to the prom, but then she joins them in fighting Skynet…Either way, John saw it ending happily between them. This was the closest he had come to romance so far, so he was pretty optimistic.

It was a pretty nice evening, a bit cooler than usual, but still comfortable. Sarah was reading something about armor-piercing bullets she wanted to buy off the black market, Derek was watching some old movie on AMC, and John was just wandering back from the kitchen after a bowl of cereal. As he walked down the hallway, he noticed Cameron sitting on her bed watching a movie.

"Hey," he greeted.

"Hello, John," Cameron said, looking away from her movie.

"What are you watching?"

"It's called, The Wedding Singer. It stars Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore. It takes place in 1985 and…"

"I know," John cut her off as he entered the room, "I've seen it before."

"Okay."

The movie had just reached the part where Julia kisses Robbie in rehearsal for her wedding day after the discussion of the different kinds of kisses. Neither John nor Cameron said anything until later in the movie when Robbie finally admits that he loves Julia.

"Love is a confusing thing. I have tried to calculate the reasoning, odds, and motives for it and it keeps coming back inconclusive," Cameron commented.

"No one, man or machine, really can. It's too complex," John replied.

"There are different kinds of love," Cameron seemed thoughtful, "When you say you love your mother, you don't seem to mean that you have any desire to procreate with her…though Sigmund Freud might disagree."

John's eyes widened. Did she really say that?

"I was making a joke. I apologize if I offended you," Cameron tilted her head.

"I know, it's just…I did not expect you to make a joke."

"I see. What are the different kinds of love and how do they materialize?"

John was taken aback by the question. That was quite a thing to ask! But, since her near death, he had promised himself that he would be more patient with her and try to help her adapt better. "Well," he began, "my understanding is that there are four kinds of love, though probably more. I don't know that well, but I heard a priest talk about it once when I was in Nicaragua. The first is the kind that you have for people in general. You do stuff for the good of others you don't even know because you want to make life better for everyone. That's the kind of love that people like Jesus talked about. The next kind is for family. You love them because you're related to them and you go through a lot together. Even if they're annoying or even just plain bad, you still love them and stick up for them. Then there's love for friends. That's pretty close to family love, but in a way, it's less restrictive because you can chose friends. These are non-romantic, non-sexual types of love, but a bit more active and noticeable than the first kind," he paused for a moment, and before he could continue, Cameron threw in a question.

"How is it…'more active' as you put it?"

"Well…uh…" it was a tough thing to elaborate on, "I guess, you kind are more inclined to do little, less necessary things more often for people you love as a friend or family. Like, let's say my mom buys me something that I like, she's going to do that for me because of her love for me as her son, but she's not going to buy some random kid something just because of her love for other people. I mean, it's a _lot_ more complicated than that, but that's kind of the very, very basic principal of it."

"Thank you for explaining," Cameron said, "What is the other kind of love?"

"That would be romantic love. You'll hear people talking about 'love at first sight' and stuff, but that's all bull. You need to have the friendship kind of love first in my opinion. People who have one-night stands and stuff just want sex, but that's not love. Anyway, romantic love happens when a boy and a girl are close friends and they develop physical attraction to one another. Then they'll be boyfriend and girlfriend and that's romantic love. At that point, after they've dated awhile, they might get engaged and then married," John explained, _Jeez, I feel like I'm talking to a four year old_, he thought.

"There are also escalating forms of affection, aren't there?" Cameron asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You perform different kinds of kisses for different kinds of relationships and different kinds of love. Or am I wrong?"

"No," John replied, chuckling, "You're right. There's like…well, a hand kiss, like you'll see guys do for a greeting of a lady in old movies. That's a formal greeting, but nothing else really. People don't usually do that much anymore. After that, there's the kiss on the cheek. That's done between family. It's also acceptable between a boy and girl who are friends, but you have to be really close friends or else it's just weird. Sometimes it's okay between just casual friends if it's a special occasion, or to say that you like someone and want to date them. Then, there's a kiss on the lips. That's usually done among dating and married couples, usually as a greeting and also for affection. You don't usually do that unless you're in love, but not always. Sometimes people who aren't dating will do it, but that's usually a really overt sign that you want to date them. But once again, these rules aren't binding. Then there's the French kiss, or making out. That's the one with the tongue. That you only do when you're in love with someone. A lot of times it's a prelude to sex, but once again, not always."

"So, friendship between opposite sexes is primarily used to seek mates with which to procreate," Cameron said.

"No!" John caught himself. He _hated_ how terminators reduced everything down to calculations and did not take any kind of emotion into account. But, she wanted to learn, so he'd do his best to teach her. "No, you…well, you don't love someone because you want to have babies with them; it's the other way around. When a couple marries, they have babies because they love each other and…well, because they want to make a child that they can love. It's not about some Darwinian survival, it's about relationships."

"I see. Thank you for explaining. I know it's difficult because it's so complex. I am grateful though," Cameron looked down, "It is a difficult concept for me to grasp as my emotions are less developed and love is apparently almost all about emotions and not procreation. I'm sorry if I am not understanding effectively or quickly."

"It's okay," John smiled again and chucked her chin with his index finger, "You're doing better than any other terminator…and better than a lot of humans, believe or not."

They went back to watching the movie for a little bit and did not speak. Then, Cameron broke the silence once again, this time in a big way.

"John?"

"Yes?"

"We've been through a lot together, and we've been together for awhile."

John's stomach tightened, "Yeah, we have been through a lot."

"Do you love me, John?"

A wave of anxiety hit the future leader of the human resistance. There were so many things to consider with that question. She was a cyborg, designed to infiltrate and kill, no matter how human she acted. Even if she was not that, she was an awkward girl who had no tact or empathy. On the other hand, she had progressed so much; even now, she had just admitted to being aware of her emotional shortcomings. Taking that away, she was beautiful. Her high-cheekboned face, wide, brown, innocent looking eyes, that pretty smile that she would occasionally show, long, wavy brown hair…John did not deny at all that he found her very physically attractive and had been quite disappointed when he found out the truth about her. He had wished many times that she was a real human.

"Do you love me? If you don't, I understand since I am only a terminator," Cameron said, breaking his thoughts.

What could he say to this? John wondered, and why was he even considering her…feelings? How could he rationalize this and make it sound less cruel? Could he beat around the bush, could he avoid the question altogether, could he…it was so confusing! He tried to think of something on the fly, but before he could say it, the blunt truth slipped out.

"Yes," he said, his heart skipping a beat as he realized what he just said, "Yes, Cameron, I do," he grinned sheepishly, "I love you."

Cameron grinned back, then broke into a happy smile. John was not sure if this was a reaction to what he just said, or if it was mimicry from what she saw on TV, either way, he liked it.

"You're not lying," she stated, "I can tell when you lie and you're not lying right now."

"No, Cameron. I really do…love you."

Before he could say anything else, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Though he was caught off guard, somehow John, from some feelings he could not place, kissed back. But before he knew it, Cameron broke away and leaned back, still grinning. When she observed his shocked face, her grin faded and was replaced by a concerned frown.

"I'm sorry. Was I wrong to do that?" she asked.

Though still in a bit of shock, John managed to answer, "No, that was completely…great."

"Maybe someday my emotions will develop to the point of being able to love. But how will I know?" she said.

"You just…know I guess," John said, feeling dizzy. Neither one said much for the last ten minutes of the movie, but when it ended John looked at his watch and yawned. "I'm tired, I think I'll go to bed," he said. Cameron kissed him again, this time on the cheek.

"Get plenty of rest to maintain health," she said.

"Okay. You have a good night too," John replied, leaving the room.

"John?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for loving me."

John blushed a bit, "No need to thank me. I just…do."

John usually liked to think about him and Cheri as he fell asleep, but as he lay in bed, her name did not even come to mind. Almost every fantasy he had about her was replaced with ones about…Cameron. He replayed their meeting in New Mexico, only this time with her really being the daughter of a tractor salesman and a stay-at-home mom and no terminators attacking. This time, they ended up dating, going to the same college, not jumping from 1999 to 2007, and were planning for their wedding, scheduled for some time in 2005. Another saw her as who she was, but developing to the point of being more human than machine, and then her falling in love with him. As he drifted off to sleep, he said the words that he had been suppressing for so long.

"Wow, I'm in love with her."


	9. The Messenger

The Messenger

_Note: I'm sorry this has taken so long. I did a lot of editing and stuff and went ahead and did a bunch of chapters before I put this up. Anyway, here it is. This will NOT follow the canonical story in the 2__nd__ season of SCC…this is my own story. I may take ideas and characters from the 2__nd__ season, but the story will remain my own, and there will be numerous differences as well as my own original characters and ideas._

The Messenger

Sarah smiled as she watched John and Cameron chatting together as they walked home from school. As uncomfortable as Sarah still was having a terminator around, and aside from the fact that Cameron's social ineptness had caused some issues, she was bearable and she did her job. It was a strange paradox to Sarah; terminators exhibited the worst of human traits: apathy, psychopathic tendencies, killing, stealing, betraying, and lying without remorse, but at the same time, she had seen them exhibit some of the very best of human nature: Loyalty, logic, sacrifice, prioritizing, ingenuity, and complete selflessness.

Sarah remembered sitting in Enrique's Mexican desert camp years ago, watching John, ten years old at the time, teaching Uncle Bob how to high five. Regardless of what Bob was, he was the most perfect father figure John had ever had. He would always be there, never too busy to spend time with him, never would get drunk and abuse him, never would lie to him, and he would, and did, die to protect him. Now, he watched Cameron and John. She could potentially be the perfect girlfriend; she would also go to her demise to ensure his safety, she would never cheat on him, she would never get involved in risky behavior (beyond what she already did), never would she try to dominate him, or blow up at him…but within a second, that came to an end.

The female terminator snapped to attention.

"JOHN, GET DOWN!" she pushed him out of the way just as an RPG smashed into her body, tearing her into scrap metal.

"No!" John tried to yell, but only managed to squeak as he picked himself up. Sarah reached for her gun and tried to run to John, but her legs felt like they were encased in cement. No matter what she did, she could not get herself to move faster as she watched the one firing the RPG, Cromartie, closing in. She leaned forward and began scoop her arms in the air, as if she were swimming the breaststroke. But no matter what she did, she could not make it to John before Cromartie pulled out his Glock and fired two rounds into John's head, leaving spatters of blood, skull, and brain all over the road.

"You fucking piece of shit!" she yelled as she raised her pistol and fired off wildly, tears streaming down her cheeks. The bullets, however, simply bounced off the terminator as he calmly raised his pistol and fired a round at Sarah. She felt a thump, followed by a feeling like a ray of fire was boring a hole in her chest. The force knocked her off her feet and somehow pinned her to the ground, paralyzed. She watched helplessly as the terminator stalked over to her, just as the sky behind him lit up as though the sun itself had crashed on the earth. When the flash cleared, there was a fiery mushroom cloud behind the triumphant cyborg; the blastwave of the nuclear explosion hit, tearing Sarah to pieces.

Sarah shot up in bed with a yell, her tank top drenched in sweat. The phone ringing had brought her out of yet another nightmare. Her heart was beating like she had just run a marathon and her tongue felt like it was the only dry part of her body. The phone rang again, sending another jolt through her body. Regaining her composure, Sarah reached over onto the nightstand and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Sarah Baum?"

"Yes?" There was a pause, "Are you from John's school?"

"No."

Sarah took a deep breath, "We don't take solicitors. We're not interested, thank you." With that she put down the phone. It was most likely the leftover panic from the dream, but something told Sarah that they probably had overstayed their welcome in Los Angeles yet again.

_South Los Angeles_

_4 March 2008_

_0900 Hours_

"Azadah, stop kicking yourself, God only knows you did your best," Major Rick Osborn, her commander, tried to comfort her, "There was no way you could see it coming."

Azadah glared at Osborn, her violet eyes burning through him. "This _wouldn't_ be that bad if Crap-for-brains Marius hadn't kicked us while we're down and grabbed the God damned Turk," she grumbled.

"You saved Reese's life; you friggin' changed history, and you used yourself as bait to get that crazy bastard to follow you," Osborn continued, "You do a great impression of a metal, by the way."

Azadah wiggled her coltan fingers. No one would have known since they were covered with real, smooth, tanned skin, "I'm halfway there as it is. We haven't completed the mission yet either, so I wouldn't break out the champagne just yet, Rick."

"Look, he's not a target. Plus, the Doc Bot will be keeping an eye on him," Rick reassured. Azadah went back to watching TV.

"I know; we've been through this before. He's not a high profile target yet because he is not a proven major threat to Skynet, but that can change soon, Rick."

"Azadah, quit moping, for God's sake," Jenna Freeman rolled her eyes as she entered the room, "Guys, I've found them. They're living under the name 'Baum.'"

Azadah and Mike Larson, both sitting on the couch, jumped up, "Where are they?" Azadah asked.

"Well…" Jenna began.

"This is just another wild goose chase, huh, Jen?" Mike said, nearly tripping over a pizza box on the dirty floor of the low rent apartment.

"I made the call like you said, Rick, and Sarah Connor—I'm pretty sure that's who it was—picked up, and when I asked her named, she said, 'are you from John's school?' and I said no, and then she just said 'we're not interested,' and hung up. And the way she said it was kind of urgent, like she was hiding or something."

"Well then, let's go! That enough proof for me," Azadah said sarcastically, "Jenna, let's be reasonable here. There are probably ten thousand women named Sarah in the LA area, and of that, probably over a hundred have a son named John. What makes you even think they are going by their real first names?"

"Because, I searched for new students at the high school that Connor went to; only three were named 'John.' John Baum supposedly came from Omaha, Nebraska, but there's no record at any of Omaha's schools of that name and," Jenna smiled, "here's the clincher, Azadah: This John Baum has a 'sister,'" she made finger quotations, "named Cameron."

Azadah's eyes widened and she shot up.

"Sound good to you?" Jenna said.

"Better get my travel mug!" Azadah walked over to the kitchen.

"Alright, this isn't a big trip, but get dressed, grab whatever we need for defense, and let's get going," Osborn ordered.

_Connor Home_

_1000 Hours_

_Damn it, John, what the hell is your problem?_ John thought to himself as he combed his hair, _it's Cameron. It's just Cameron. Stop freaking out about this. She doesn't care_. John had not really slept well the night before. He had fallen asleep quickly, but after getting up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, he started thinking about his very pretty, cyborg bodyguard. At first, they were replays of the same fantasies he had had while falling asleep; the things he wished had happened between them, the things he hoped _would_ happen between them, plus all the obstacles. He had lay there in bed, tempted to get up and see her since she would not be asleep (though she would tonight due to her damaged power cell's need to recharge). He knew she would not be mad or freaked out, but somehow, he did not want to seem…desperate, as strange as that was.

Also, he had told her about love being a two-way emotion; in all likelihood, all he would have to do to get her to do, well, just about any kind of physical affection would probably be just to ask, but again, he had told her that such a thing was not love, but lust, and John did not want to seem like a hypocrite, at least to himself. Plus, if she did go along and let John act like her 'boyfriend' just like that, it would just be confirmation that she had no emotional knowledge about such a thing's significance, and that would not be a true relationship; John would be loving someone, or something rather, that did not, and could not love back. _But_, if she could, that meant that he would have to, in a sense, work for her affection…

_She did kiss me though, and in the way I told her was an overt sign that you wanted to date someone, but I did say that that rule was not binding,_ John told himself, _And what about Morris? What if she _can_ develop emotions and starts to like him instead? She's not human, and she doesn't discriminate like most girls would_._ Morris is a loud, obnoxious, goofy-looking horn dog who could never get a girl of Cameron's caliber…unless she was a terminator. But then, Cameron knows me better…but I'm her commander and reprogrammer in the future, maybe she doesn't like me like _that._ Argh! Why didn't I just send another Uncle Bob and not put myself through this crap?_

John turned to see Cameron in his doorway and nearly jumped out of his skin. She looked really, really good today. She had not really dressed up much, but somehow, the lighting was just hitting her perfectly.

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to startle you," she said.

"That's fine. Just like, give a knock on the door, even if it's open," he told her, "You look really nice."

"Thank you. Your mother is frantic about being caught. I think we may have been compromised," Cameron said as she turned and walked back down the hall.

"Not again," John grumbled, "it's probably nothing too, just like in Nebraska." _Cameron's acting normal. Is that good or bad…for us? Crap, John! Get a hold of yourself!_ He had heard other guys talk about how they fell for their best girl friends, girls who they could say and do anything around normally, but as soon as romantic feelings were acknowledged, they would freeze up, become nervous, and sudden start to walk on eggshells anytime the girl came around. John had _thought_ he would be above that.

John found his mother throwing all the essentials, which consisted of about two weeks worth of clothing and enough guns to hold off a company of Marines, into two large suitcases.

"Mom, what the hell is going on?" John said as he stepped out of the way of his mother.

"Get your stuff together, we may need to leave," Sarah said, not pausing from her packing, "Nobody should know we're here except your school, Ellison, and Uncle Bob. I got an anonymous call this morning, and we need to be prepared."

"Whoa, whoa! Time out!" John made a T with his hands, "There's a number of reasons why someone might call us…"

"John, I know where this is going, but if we're not safe, you're just going to have to cancel your little date…"

"Mom!" John bit his tongue and forced himself to calm down, "Did you have another nightmare?"

Sarah grimaced and looked down, then continued on with her panicked preparation, "We can't take any chances, John," she said. Just then, Derek came up from the basement, an annoyed look on his face.

"John is right. The chances that this phone call is a sign of a clear and present danger are…" Cameron began before Sarah cut her off.

"Cameron, shut up! No one is ever safe, remember?"

"Sarah," Derek stepped in, "I hate to agree with Tin Can here, but we do need to think about this."

The room went silent as there was a knock at the door. Instinctively, both Sarah and Derek took out their guns. Cameron signaled John to get into her room for safety, to which he complied.

"Go through the garage flank them. Don't fire unless they fire first," Sarah whispered to Derek. He began moving toward his position as Sarah crept toward the door. She looked back at Cameron, who was standing in the middle of the room like a statue.

"You going to do something?" Sarah snapped.

"You did not give me an order, I was standing by," Cameron answered.

"Well, get into position to take them down when they get in here."

"What if this is not connected to the phone call?"

"Just do it!" Sarah hissed. Cameron was hesitant, but she complied.

Derek moved around toward the front of the house, ducking behind any cover he could find, while at the same time trying not to look too suspicious to any passersby if this turned out to be a false alarm. The warm pavement felt good on his bare feet, and he was glad that it was early enough that the sun had not started scorching the ground. Because he was not wearing shoes, he moved in complete silence, surveying the area carefully. There was a strange, junky-looking car parked in front of the house, and it looked to be occupied. Derek contemplated taking them out for a second, but then decided against it; the last thing they needed was for him to be on the run for murdering two innocent bystanders. Suddenly, he saw a flash of movement in the bushes out of the corner of his right eye. In one fluid motion, he removed his gun from the holster and pointed in the direction of the movement. He looked to see a man, probably in his early thirties with a blonde, military buzz cut advancing toward him. However, before he could get off a shot, the stranger's hands went up.

"Whoa! Easy there, Reese. We're on the same team," Osborn said.

"Major Osborn?" Derek lowered his pistol, his eyes wide, "When did you get here?"

"Been in 07 for about a week now. We've been trying to find you guys. Azadah saw you in the park Friday before that metal came after you."

"What's your mission?" Derek said, walking toward the front door.

"Uh…it's a long story, we'll go inside and explain," Osborn replied, following his fellow resistance fighter.

"Who's 'we?'"

Osborn whistled. Instantly, the driver of the car, a skinny, redheaded kid about nineteen or so, got out and walked toward Osborn and Derek. A cute, yet awkward looking, medium frame blonde girl in her mid twenties holstered her pistol as she rounded the other side of the house to join the pack. Derek looked on the porch to see a raven-haired beauty in a green tanktop, black BDU pants, and sunglasses ready to make a forced entry into the Connor home if necessary, taking care to stand outside of the doorframe should someone on the inside feel the need to start shooting at intruders. When Derek saw her, he froze in his tracks, a chill running down his spine.

"You," he said icily to the woman he had seen in the park the day before.

"You," the woman smiled as she removed her sunglasses, revealing her violet-colored eyes and walked toward him, "Derek Reese: my almost assassin. Good thing for both of us that T Triple Eight's aim was the only thing worse than your judgment and gut instinct."

Derek looked at the ground, then back up at the beautiful resistance fighter, "Can't take any chances. I had to assume that something was up and…well, better one life than three billion," he produced some keys to the front door and walked up onto the porch. "It's okay, Sarah. Stand down," he called.

Sarah opened the door and granted access to Derek and the four resistance fighters before Derek could turn the key.

"Stand down, Cameron," Sarah said. Cameron emerged from her hiding place and scanned the future warriors. A second later, John joined them. He was supposed to be one of the back rooms, ready to run if there was trouble, but he was pretty sure from the beginning that his mother was overreacting; he would never tell her, but her gut instincts were wrong at least seventy percent of the time. Sarah was also aware that John did not do as he was told, but there was no point in getting on him about this right now.

"Cameron!" Azadah's eyes lit up as she saw the terminator. She rushed forward and embraced Cameron who, although caught by surprise, put her armed around Azadah and forced a smile. "I thought I'd never see you again! I've missed our coffee breaks," she said, to which Cameron seemed to react happily.

"I liked that. It was a good time for conversation," Cameron said, which kind of caught John. It was not what she said, but how she said it; it was not unemotional as much as awkward and shy. Something was very different about Cameron since the car bomb…but in a good way.

"Coffee breaks?" Derek folded his arms.

"Yes. She called it, 'Sunday Coffee with Cameron,'" Cameron explained, "We would sit and talk about things that were happening with the war, human behavior, and people we talked to. It helped me to learn to adapt better. She was my best friend," she glanced at Derek, "She said that she thought…"

"We need to get down to business, Cameron," Azadah interrupted, "we can talk later."

"Alright, before we go any further, let's make some introductions: Major Rick Osborn," Osborn introduced himself.

"Private Mike Larson," the young guy said, standing up.

"Jenna Freeman," the blonde girl smiled, "Computer specialist and pretty good cook."

"Sergeant Azadah Saberi," Azadah said.

"What nationality is that?" Derek asked.

"Persian; my parents came from Iran in 2000; a year before I was born."

"Okay, now that everyone knows each other, let's get on with this: the reason we're here," Osborn grinned, "Other than serial numbers and the name "Turk", most information as to why and how Skynet goes online and who is responsible was either destroyed or erased by Skynet. Only the central server actually had the complete documents as to the history of system and how and where it came to be."

"Does that really matter?" Derek asked, "I mean, we find out who's responsible, and we take him out. I mean, you guys took out Dyson in 94…"

"No!" Sarah said in sudden anger, "No, he gave his life. I am not a murderer."

"Fine, he died. That pushed the rise of Skynet and Judgment Day forward from 97 to 2011. We took out Andy Goode, and Shipkov got iced too, and that probably pushed it forward another few years at least."

"No," Jenna shook her head, "it happened—or rather _will happen_—in 2011."

"Did you ever think, Derek," Azadah leaned forward, "that just killing the people involved in Skynet's creation doesn't do jack? Have you considered that just taking out the systems does nothing but delay the inevitable?"

"That's…we're getting to that, Azadah," Osborn signaled for her to quiet down, "Almost everything about the history of Skynet is loaded onto the CPUs of all terminator units. But, smartly, the central server only gives them a list of names of people who developed and oversaw the Skynet development process. However, they got in over their heads and shot themselves in the foot when they developed the TOK models. Not only for the fact that over half the models defected to TecCom, but some went rogue; 'metal mercs' we called them."

"Rogue?" John asked.

"Officially in the records, there were five of them," Jenna replied, "Including Cameron here we believe, but just a week before we jumped here, a deep penetration recon unit came upon a group of five people—all well fed and in perfect health. Two attempted to take out the team and were blasted to bits; turns out they weren't people but TOKs. But, then two more of them came up and offered food and shelter. Once again, these new, Mark 3 models, had failed due to their individuality and learning ability. Here's the issue according to them: They had concluded that if found by either Skynet or TechCom, they would be destroyed. No matter who won the war, they would have a complete mopping up of the rest of the enemy side. So, they were able to infiltrate back into Skynet, get _everything_ that caused Judgment Day. They figured that they could make the jump back in time to before Judgment Day, make contact with you," Osborn looked at John and Sarah, "about exactly what needed to be done, and once it was prevented, they could go on living unmolested lives…or existences, or whatever."

Sarah stood up, "Now wait a minute, you're telling me one of her…'cousins' has everything we're looking for?"

"Yes. And it has calculated out what needs to be done, who needs to be contacted, what needs to be said…everything that leads to Judgment Day and how to prevent it."

Azadah nodded in agreement to all of this, "This unit won't tell anybody except John or Sarah Connor directly. The problem is, we don't know what to look for. It could male, female, old, young…and it could be under many assumed names. Plus," she grinned at Cameron, "you know how these guys are at blending in."

"Scary," Sarah agreed, "Cameron, perhaps you could help us?"

Cameron turned and gave Sarah her usual blank stare, "I didn't know anything about this at all. If I did, I would have told you."

Sarah glared, "Are you sure?"

"I am sure."

"Okay," John interjected, "What are we supposed to do now, then?"

"We go on a terminator hunt," Mike said, speaking for the first time, "We have the name, model, and last location of the unit sent to track the TOK down. If it's made contact with the TOK, we can get its chip, hack it, and get a good idea where our rogue friend is."

Derek and Sarah sighed collectively. "Just how are we supposed to take this thing down?" Derek asked, "Unless you shoved some plasma rifles up your asses before the time jump, nothing short of a tank's gonna bring a terminator down."

"True," Azadah agreed, reaching into a bag she had brought with her, "Which is why we were curious as to why Skynet sent back one metal after another metal…it didn't make sense until we made contact with him and found out what he was shooting." She held up a rifle cartridge. John immediately recognized the round as a 5.56x45mm; this was the round fired by the M4/M16 series of rifles (as well as countless others). However, instead of the usual copper-jacketed, simple conical shape, this round was flattened near the tip, and a second, very pointy penetrator cone sat on top of the flat section. The entire round was silver and appeared to be made of tungsten.

"That is the XM1009 I-HEAP round," Cameron said, "Army laboratory ballistic tests in 2003 indicated that the primary combat rounds, the M855 and Mark 262, were lacking in essential lethality. They developed this round, the Incendiary High Explosive Armor Piercing round. It shows penetration of four inches on armored steel; unstoppable by any hard armor insert. The tungsten jacket surrounds a high explosive and thermite core that will ignite upon penetration of both hard and soft targets. It will be adopted as standard issue by U.S. armed forces in January 2009 and used in the early stages by both Skynet and TechCom after Judgment Day before plasma small arms are developed."

"These puppies are _lethal_," Osborn said, "don't get me started on what they do to humans, but with their penetration and heat, they can do a number on metals. Hit one right in or around the eye, or right near his chip port, he's down in one shot. A couple rounds to the chest can do some nasty crap to the endoskeleton; hit the power core, they're done for awhile as well. The unit that was sent back to take out the TOK had a big stash of these.

"We got lucky enough to escape from him with quite a few rounds. You got a 556 rifle, you're good to go," Osborn gestured to the M4 in the corner.

"Okay, Cameron, you're going to need to watch yourself," John said quickly, "No charging into gunfire. Duck, cover, and fire."

"She'll be just fine, John," Sarah groaned.

It didn't take long to draw up a plan of attack and a list of objectives. First: find the T-888, calling himself LeShaun, and disable him. Second: Remove his chip. Third: Acquire as many weapons to be used against terminators as possible. Within two hours, everything was ready for the mission. That is, all except one thing.

Sarah had, since 1984, collected a large number of assault rifles, shotguns, grenade launchers, and other illegal weapons that would have sent Sarah Brady into a catatonic state. Now, John was standing in the basement/armory, trying to choose his weapon in the same way most people would choose that day's wardrobe. He needed a weapon that could shoot the armor piercing rounds, so that meant a shotgun was out. John did not like the AK series of rifles; while extremely reliable, they were heavy, clumsy, and inaccurate. Plus, none of the ones the Connors owned fired the 5.56mm round anyway. This left two M16A2 rifles, a Ruger Mini 14, a Steyr AUG, and two M4 Carbines, one with a short-barreled Close Quarter Battle Receiver (CQBR).

The M16s were too long and the Mini 14 could not mount optics and was sub par as a combat rifle. The Steyr was a nice rifle, but John just didn't like the way it felt. That left the M4s; John decided that, since they would be climbing in and out of cars, he would take the CQBR. It had a 10 inch barrel, was accurate, could mount a variety of optics, and plus, it was damn sexy! He put on an Aimpoint Comp red dot sight and zeroed it in before joining the rest of the group.

"What are you doing?" Sarah asked, stuffing the XM1009 rounds into an AR magazine.

"I'm going with you. Don't tell me I'm too important or it's too risky or something…"

"But, John, that's just it! You're not ready…" Sarah began.

"And I'll suddenly transform…like the Hulk or something, on Judgment Day? Come on, Mom! It's just…" he paused as he chose his words, "I know Cameron's supposed to be protecting me, but now, if she's a TOK, she might have a price on her head, so I feel like I should help protect her on this mission…you know, shooting pairs like the SEALs do? Either that or she stays here."

Sarah hesitated.

"Mom, this will be my first real hot op, where I'm actually going hunting. It's just one guy, and we have a ton of soldiers with these…super bullets. Let me go."

This was a parent's worst nightmare. As much as she trained John, no parent, not even Sarah Connor, wanted to think of her child in battle. But he did have a point.

"Alright, fine. You watch your own ass first, though," she did not tell him that she was slightly worried about Cameron herself and was somewhat glad that she would not be operating alone.


	10. Another Miracle

Another Miracle

Another Miracle

South Central Los Angeles

1700 Hours

The thought among most of the street residents would probably be that it was yet another SWAT raid. But they intended to keep a low key and not be seen by the public. Mike Larson, the driver, maneuvered the old car slowly, leading the way in front of the Mercedes. The last thing the Connors and the TechCom fighters needed was to be discovered early. Smartly, they had all stored their rifles and armor in the trunk of the car, and most just had side arms. John, however, kept his short-barreled carbine on his lap. He was also wearing his military grade Personal Armor System for Ground Troops (PASGT) vest. The standard issue body armor for U.S. troops until 2003 (when it was replaced by the Interceptor vest), it held multiple layers of Kevlar and removable hard armor plates. This vest could protect against just about any standard round used in modern combat. It would not stop the XM1009 round, but Sarah still insisted that John wear the armor, just to be safe.

"Have you ever fired a gun in combat?" Cameron asked John.

"No," he shook his head, "Just on the range and some shooting houses and stuff. You have faith in me, right?"

"'There's a first time for everything,' as the idiom goes," Cameron replied, "I'm here to protect you, though."

"I'll return the favor," he smiled at his guardian and love interest. Even now, before the mission, he kept thinking about how pretty he thought she was. He wasn't distracted, he was just trying to keep calm. He didn't want to think about the upcoming fight with the lethal, cyborg assassin, who was now armed with bullets that could just as easily kill Cameron as they could a human. He had just saved her; he was not going to lose her again. He wanted to think ahead of the mission; he wanted to plan out how he was going to make this work. But before he could get any in depth thoughts, Larson's voice came over the walkie-talkie.

"That's the apartment on the right," he said. John and the rest of the car's occupants looked over. "There's only about four or five other tenants on the lowest level. He should be on the third floor, first door down."

"I thought he fled, how'd we find him so quick?" Derek asked.

"I called Ellison this morning. Asked him to look up DeShaun Withers. Turns out this metal has been posing as a member of the Crips and has gotten himself arrested twice for petty theft. This is his last known location," Sarah explained as the car pulled into an ally.

"How do we know this is the right guy?" John said, "I mean, yeah, he doesn't sound like a model citizen, but I don't think it would be a good idea to just go in shooting."

"And why not?" Derek turned around and frowned at him.

"First, we've got terminators to deal with and as much as I don't exactly fear the Crips—especially because of Cameron—that's just another thing to deal with if we just take out one of their home boys. Plus, if they trace it back to us…you know the rest. Second, we can't just kill everyone who _might_ be a terminator or architect of Skynet."

"It'll be pretty easy to tell if he's a metal or not," Derek rolled his eyes.

"Not necessarily," Cameron argued, "I remained undetected for two months until I voluntarily revealed my identity I am told."

"I knew what you were right away," Derek snarled.

"I still do not know how," Cameron replied, "You must be very perceptive."

"Can we focus, please?" Sarah groaned as she stopped the car, "John, we'll know pretty quickly if this guy is a terminator; don't you worry."

Larson parked his car and the Resistance fighters got out and joined the Connors, Derek, and Cameron.

"Okay, we gave the location. Move in twos, aim for the chest; we need that chip intact," Major Osborn ordered, "Larson, on me. Cameron: you breech. Sarah: On Cameron. Reese and Azadah: Provide rear security. John, you stay and cover Jenna…"

"Whoa! No!" John protested, "I'm with Cameron," he froze for a second. _Don't let the cat out of the bag with Mom_, he told himself, then covered with, "She's supposed to be my guardian. That's her program."

"We need her to take down Withers and there's absolutely _no way_ I'm letting you go in on a breech," Sarah said firmly.

Osborn nodded, "Too much risk."

John's eyes narrowed, "Major Osborn, I _order_ you to…"

"Before I left, you specifically told me that I would have command over you when I got here. So I'm telling you, I want you to be there to give me that order in the future. Stay here, and stay down unless you two are in danger, okay?"

John grimaced and nodded. "Alright, then." He was really worried about Cameron. Yes, she was guarding him, but for some reason, he felt like she was more likely to be the target now. _God, if you're up there, keep her safe…you must have once, so if you can that again please…_

"I'll be back," Cameron said.

John smiled as the six made for the building entrance, _Terminators and their catch phases._

Though they were all dressed in street clothes (aside from the body armor that Sarah and Rick Osborn wore), the team's armament and fluid motion would have impressed even the elite LAPD SWAT team. Cameron, in the lead, inspected the chain-locked door before pulling it from the hinges, shattering the chain links like ice cubes. With guns up, they entered the building. John could only sit in the car and listen to the chatter over the radio.

Inside, the train of Resistance fighters were making their way up the stairwell to the third floor. The hard concrete room stank to high heaven. A couple bags of half eaten fast food were found on the first landing, as were a couple smoked remains of marijuana joints. There were obviously cats in here somewhere, because there was a distinct urine odor. The second landing found another fast food bag, this one filled with relatively fresh vomit that smelled like a mixture of grease and cheep beer. An old sock lay next to the bag, and a used, torn condom lay in the corner.

"…place obviously doubles as the city dump," Azadah murmured.

"I will likely need to shower after being here," Cameron said quietly.

"Shut it!" Derek hissed at her.

Rather than argue, Cameron complied as they continued on up the stairs with Sarah on her six. When the entire group reached the top, they stacked up outside the door. Azadah pulled the door open and allowed Cameron and Sarah to charge through, followed by Osborn and Larson, before she and Derek followed, keeping an eye on where they had just been in case Withers tried to mount a flank attack. Without incident, they made it to the target apartment and stacked up again. This time, since the door was locked, Cameron would do the honors. With barely an ounce of effort, Cameron kicked the door off its hinges as Sarah and Mike Larson charged in. Osborn and Cameron came next, covering the open fire zones, looking for any movement. There was nothing.

It was a studio apartment, crawling with roaches and covered in dust and grunge. Just inside the doorway to the left was the kitchen area with a rusty sink, stove with food caked on, and crumbs all over the counter. In the living room, if it could be called that, was a Hewitt Packard computer, circa 1998. Right next to this was an old army cot with a cheep mattress and no bed sheet. Sarah quickly looked around for any place that the terminator could hide. The bathroom door was open and the mildew-covered shower curtain was pulled back revealing…nothing. Meanwhile, Derek had made his way over to the computer and had begun checking through the files to see if they showed evidence of use by the terminator.

"Let's see…lacking porn or shopping history…no rap lyrics…and the headline 'Fugitive Believed Dead Appears Naked on LA Freeway.' We got the right place," he commented.

"Good, but not good enough," Osborn replied, "See if there's anything that might give us a clue where it went."

Derek did a further search, but he could find nothing. "Well, Major Osborn," he turned to the TechCom officer, a bit annoyed at the outcome of the mission, "what now?"

"Take it easy, Reese. It's not the end of the world…not yet at least," Osborn said calmly, "let's get what we can from this computer and see where it leads us."

Down in the alley, John was still inside the car, a bit angry at once again being coddled, or so he felt.

"This is bullshit," he grumbled to Jenna, who was busy typing away at her computer, getting schematics to the building.

"What is?" She asked, still typing.

"My friend is up there, being protected by two people I know hate her: Derek and Mom. They'd just as soon see her blown away than the guy we're after."

Jenna turned and smiled. John thought she was pretty cute. She was a _tiny_ bit chubby, or rather, "Starting to lose her girlish figure" but she had pretty, kind looking blue-gray eyes and a genuine smile, as well as a nicely structured face. He could tell by the lines in her face that she was the type who smiled and laughed a lot, even in the dreary world of post-Judgment Day. "If you're worried about Cameron," she said calmly, "I'm sure Azadah will keep an eye on her. In the future, unless she's with you, Cameron's almost always hanging out with Azadah. I mean, Azadah is only one who is nice to any of the terminators…especially Cameron."

"Good to know…I guess," he shrugged.

"Jenna, you and John there?" Osborn's voice came over the radio. John took the call.

"No, we went for pizza," he remarked.

"Okay, well, get me a slice of onion and extra cheese," Osborn joked back.

"What'd you guys find?"

"He's here, or was here, but not now," came the reply, "we got on his computer but didn't really find anything when didn't already know. We'll have to regroup and find out where he's gone off to."

"Maybe we should stakeout," John suggested, "See if he comes back."

Everyone agreed, and they made their way back to the cars. For the next two hours, they watched people come and go, yet no one entered the building. The cars were getting hot and the occupants impatient.

"We gotta do more than this," Derek groaned, "Even if that computer is there, it doesn't mean anything. He could have just up and left."

"He would have erased the files," Cameron said. Derek, as usual, glared at her for daring to speak, Cameron quickly added, "That's would I would do."

"She's probably right," Sarah said.

They waited another thirty minutes before Derek once again had enough. "I've got an idea."

"That's not good," John muttered. Derek ignored him.

"Wait here," he said as he got out of the car and walked around the building to where Osborn and his crew were.

"I wonder what he has in mind," Cameron said.

"Whatever it is, it will be either brilliant or disastrous," Sarah replied. She waited a minute before Derek returned with Azadah and headed toward the building again. Sarah got out to meet with them.

"So what is the plan of which you speak?" she folded her arms and waited for a response.

"We just need to find out if Withers is even still here. We ask the landlord and if he is, we keep waiting. If he's gone, we move on," Derek explained.

Sarah inhaled through her teeth, "Okay. That was your 'plan?' I'm guessing you're not telling me everything."

"We're going to go act like loan sharks that Withers didn't pay off. We use a little muscle with the landlord, he'll talk, and he might even know where Withers is," Azadah replied.

Sarah shrugged, "Okay, that could work I guess. Just don't do anything stupid, Derek."

Derek nodded and he and Azadah walked toward the building. John watched the whole thing unfold. The two stepped through the door way and began making their way down the hall. Suddenly, there was a loud crash of brick and drywall, followed by a sickening thump.

"CONTACT!" Derek yelled as he rushed out of the building, Azadah crawling out after him, "He was in the walls! God knows how he got there but…"

The large, black terminator rushed through the doorway so fast he hit the frame, shattering it. Without a second thought, John flipped the safety off his rifle and took aim through the Aimpoint M68 red dot sight. Taking care not to shoot near the chip, he fired three quick shots at the terminator's chest. It was a decent group, about a three inch group, but the rounds exploded in small flashes when they hit. Withers convulsed with every hit, stunned that rifle rounds were doing such damage. Regardless, they did not do _enough_ damage and the terminator regained balance and continued his attack on Azadah.

The young Iranian-American looked completely hopeless as Withers raised his fist to deliver a fatal blow to the head, but as the cyborg's fist came down, Azadah threw up a block which, rather than getting her arm cut off, succeeded in stopping the attack! She quickly shuffled to her side, drew back her left leg, and gave a brutal kick right into Withers' solar plexus, sending the coltan killer flying about ten feet into the brick wall of the building, causing it to buckle and crack.

"Son of a bitch, ANOTHER ONE?" Derek shouted. As he was yelling, Cameron jumped out of the car with her weapon at the ready. Withers, however, had already recovered and dove to safety. Cameron's armor piercing rounds went through the brick like paper. Had Withers been human, he would have been dead or badly wounded by the incoming rounds, but since the rounds had been slowed by the building, they did not retain enough energy to pierce the armored body of the terminator. With no regard for herself, Cameron marched forward.

"Cameron, move! Move!" John shouted, "You're in danger in the open! Shoot and scoot."

But before she could take cover, Withers popped out, firing a quick burst from his short, LR-300 assault rifle. Two of the rounds slammed into Cameron, creating a sickening sound of twisting metal. Cameron shrieked in surprise and fell to the ground.

"Shit!" John instinctively dove behind the Mercedes, popped up, and squeezed off a round. This shot was just above the terminator's head, so John adjusted his aim and fired again, this time hitting him in the center mass. The deadly round flashed as it detonated, blasting a large hole in the coltan and knocking the terminator back. Just as he did this, Azadah emerged again, this time with a piece of heavy railing she had torn free. Swinging it like it was a wiffle ball bat, she knocked Withers to the ground. Then, using all her might, shoved the pole through his abdomen, impaling the cyborg and destroying his primary power source.

"Somebody get me a knife!" she turned around and held out her hand. Derek, who was the closest, just stood and glared at her. Azadah knew what he was thinking, but that made no difference, "Reese! While we're young!"

Reluctantly, he removed his Leatherman from its scabbard and handed it over. Wasting no time, Azadah cut away Wither's scalp and popped off the top of the chip port. Then, using the pliers, she removed the chip, ensuring that Withers would never again rise.

"Clear!" she called, just as Jenna, Larson, and Osborn rounded the corner. They were ready to start shooting, but quickly noticed that they had come a little late. Osborn inspected the damage to the terminator, said something to Azadah, then turned back to John and Sarah, "nice shooting, Connor" he gave a thumbs up, "Dead center mass."

But John was too concerned with Cameron to take the complement. He rushed over to her, suddenly relieved as she rolled over and forced herself to her hands and knees.

"Oh, Shit!" he groaned, offering her his hand, "You okay, Cam?"

"Yes," she replied as she took his hand, hoisting herself off the trash covered ground, "the rounds that hit me penetrated only an inch into my endoskeleton. One detonated but failed to fragment, the other," she reached into the hole in her shirt just at the shoulder, and winced as she pulled the bullet out, "Failed to do more than penetrate and stick." She glanced down at the PASGT vest and noticed a bullet hole; one of Withers' rounds had hit its mark. She put her finger in the hole. "Are you wounded?" she asked, a look of great concern in her eyes.

John looked down. He did not remember feeling any impact. He quickly undid his vest, pulled up his shirt, and looked for a wound. But there was not even a bruise or swelling. He then removed the trauma plate, which should have been penetrated like paper by the deadly round, and found that there was only a tiny dent.

"John! What the hell? Oh shit! Shit! Shit!" Sarah ran over to her son, panic in her eyes. She began pawing at his chest, "does that hurt? Can you feel anything?"

"Mom!" John pushed her hands away, "I'm completely okay; not even a scratch."

"He must have had defective rounds," Cameron hypothesized, looking at her wounds.

"Not really," Jenna commented, "Look at the car door." She pointed to the Mercedes. Three large holes, at least eight inches in diameter, now decorated the passenger side front and rear doors. John looked down at his vest, then at Cameron, then the car, then the sky. He was never sure about what to believe in terms of God and religion, but this was weird. Maybe it could be explained away but he was getting the feeling that someone was indeed watching out for him…and Cameron. This was two miracles in less than five days.

"That will probably bring down the resale value quite a bit," Cameron commented about the car. John chuckled at her joke while everyone except stared in awe.

"We should probably get moving before the cops show up," Azadah recommended. She picked up Withers like a stuffed animal and began walking him back to their junk car. The other three TechCom fighters had begun to inspect the damage, and they did not notice Derek watching Azadah leave, a cold stare of hatred in his green eyes. It was only by pure chance that John looked over and saw him begin to follow her, his thumb flicking the safety of his M4 to full automatic.


	11. Hybrid

Hybrid

Hybrid

"What the fu…?" John began to follow them quietly. He rounded the corner about seven steps behind Derek, who was completely focused on Azadah, his weapon in a low ready position. John was growing increasingly worried as it became more and more obvious what he was planning. But why was he doing this? It just did not make any sense.

The Persian beauty went around the other corner and headed toward the car, which was only about fifteen or so yards away. Derek stopped at the corner, and raised his rifle, steadying it against the wall and focused to the right side of Azadah's skull.

"Derek!" John shouted. Azadah spun around to stare down the barrel of Derek's assault rifle. Without time to think, she took the only thing she could, which was Withers' body, and flung it at Derek. If Withers was human, he looked like he would weigh around two hundred pounds, but being a terminator he probably weighed around twice that. Derek quickly dove out of the way just as Azadah charged him and knocked him to the ground.

"So that," she hissed as she easily pulled his rifle away, "is how you handle everything, huh? When in doubt: Shoot it. Is that it?" Derek did not answer so Azadah continued, "you just want to kill all metals, huh? Kill anybody you _think_ is a terminator, kill anyone who looks at you wrong…" she stood up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Derek's groaned as John helped him up. His back hurt like hell, but he immediately began following her as she picked up Withers' body and carried it back to the car.

"Just what in the hell were you thinking?" John raged.

"I was doing you a favor. I'm telling you, they go bad," Derek replied, "Sooner or later."

"Only the Triple Eights and older do that," Azadah said, "the Nine Hundreds never malfunctioned and the TOKs are as loyal as any human. And you never even asked me what model I am."

"Well, what model are you, then?" Derek grumbled. Azadah slammed the trunk shut, spun around, and shot him a dazzling smile.

"Good old fashion _homo sapiens_," she said.

Derek folded his arms, "Bullshit."

"I was nearly killed by an aerial HK during the Battle of Salt Lake City. They took what remained of my skeleton and infused it with coltan parts from a terminator. My brain, eyes, most of my skin, all my internal organs and um," she tapped her well-endowed chest and smiled, "these are all real. So that's my model: I'm fully human, but with the ability to beat the shit out of terminators. Now, don't you feel like a dick?"

Derek just stood silently.

"What the hell is going on over here?" Sarah said as she and the rest of the group raced over.

"Oh, I just tripped and dropped Withers. We're good to go now," Azadah opened the passenger side door and climbed in.

"Alright, let's go before the cops show up," Osborn agreed.

Despite their success, everyone in the Mercedes was silent on the way home. John just kept thinking about the bullets that did not work and how lucky, or blessed, he and Cameron were. The burning, nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach, which had originated the night before when he lay in bed thinking about her, had grown worse. He wished it would just be over, and that they could settle down and not have to worry about this anymore. This would certainly not be the last time they had a brush with death, and John was worried that Cameron's luck would run out.

As they passed through the lights of LA's nightlife, John stole as many glances and gazes at her as he could. She looked stunning as usual in the florescent lights, and the usual "scary robot", expressionless face was gone; come to think of it, Cameron had not worn that expression much, if at all, since her "surgery". Instead of looking to be on "standby", her expression was more or less "spaced out". Her brown eyes would occasionally dart out the window and then over to John. Once they glanced at the same time and she smiled at him. John saw something in that smile that many others would miss. The terminator in Cameron seemed to be dying and the human was rapidly taking over.

Both cars pulled in the driveway a little after 9 p.m. Osborn climbed out of his car and grinned at Sarah as she did the same.

"Well, mission accomplished," he said, taking the chip out of the glove compartment, "You want Jenna to hack the chip or would John like to do it?"

"You can do it," John said, "I have a lot of tests coming up."

Jenna sighed, "I _hate_ breaking into those things. But whatever."

"Well, I guess this has been a good day. Got the chip, everyone's alive, no one on our trail…" Sarah shrugged, "I'm not much of a cook, but I'm sure everyone's hungry. Pancakes?"

"Just about anything sounds good right now," Azadah said, "I'm absolutely starved."

Sarah gawked. "You get _hungry_?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah, why wouldn't I?"

"She's not a metal, Sarah," Derek explained what Azadah was.

"That's what Bob was telling us," Sarah replied, looking Azadah up and down, "So you're one of them."

Azadah grinned proudly, "One of two hundred fifty. Mostly we're used in recon and special operations. Fifteen hundred completed missions, about sixteen thousand confirmed kills, and only four operators lost, not counting three terminators," she paused for a moment as she looked over to Osborn for approval, which he gave, "Our primary mission is to ensure that Dr. Schwartz's program in this time is not destroyed by Skynet. If a bunch of enhanced, as we're nicknamed in the future, "Spartans", are operational now, when Judgment Day comes, we can possibly put Skynet on the defensive from the beginning. However, it goes without saying even this is less than desirable, so we're also tasked with assisting you on the prevention of Judgment Day. So…" she scraped the driveway with her toe, "I guess that's about it."

"We need to dispose of Withers' body," Cameron announced, "Azadah, can you do it? We have cinderblocks in the garage."

"She said she was hungry, Lead Head!" Derek said angrily, "You do the job since you don't eat. Quit putting the burden on us and _you_ burn the…"

"No!" Cameron suddenly replied desperately, then calmed down, "Alright, I can build it while she eats. Then she can burn him."

Azadah shrugged, "Fine with me." With that, everyone headed into the house (except Cameron).

Pancakes were hard to ruin, which was one of the reasons that Sarah liked to make them. The late night meal was pretty satisfying as everyone talked about their success, compared war stories, and generally relaxed. Sarah decided to do chocolate chips since it was a good day, and everyone seemed to like that. About halfway into the second batch, Cameron came in from the garage.

"The incinerator's ready and Withers' body is in it. Can I have some pancakes?" she asked. Once again, everyone was silent to her request, so she decided to add, "I like the way they taste."

"There's five left if you want them," Sarah replied.

"I'll have three pancakes," Cameron said, walking over to the plate.

Azadah had the easy job of spreading the thermite and setting Withers ablaze. She was just about to light him up when she heard the door open behind her. Derek entered the garage gave her a nod.

"Hello, Derek" Azadah said, turning her back to him.

"Azadah, I…" he looked at the ground. Humble pie was not exactly one of Derek Reese's favorite treats, but he really owed her one. "I'm sorry. I know that's not much considering I…well, tried to murder you…twice," he grimaced, "I don't expect you to like me or even forgive me but…well, I truly apologize."

Azadah lit the torch and touched it to the thermite. The brilliant white light was almost blinding to look directly into, and was somewhat annoying even out of the corner of one's eye. The beautiful Persian girl turned and walked out of the garage; Derek followed.

"I understand why you're suspicious. But I lived the same life you did, don't forget that," she told him, "and it's not my first instinct to just kill everything that may be a threat. You kill without any remorse. Except for your little brother, is there any individual you care about?"

"Yes, of course, what kind of question is that?" Derek looked at the ground.

"Okay, maybe you have John and Sarah. And maybe you have your fellow fighters. But what about the people you don't know? I mean, you saw me in the park the other day, and I knew what you would do. You had no idea who I was. You had no evidence whatsoever that I was a terminator, a cop, or anything. But you decided to kill me anyway. Why?" Azadah folded her arms and scowled. Derek hardened up and stood up straight.

"I have a mission; _we _have a mission. We do not have the luxury of just assuming the best of everybody. Better one innocent person than three billion."

That just about did it for her. "Oh my God, Reese," she said as put her face in her hands and groaned. She quickly snapped her hands down and clenched her fists, her violet eyes burning with anger, "Who do you think makes this 'three billion?'" Azadah's voice was nearly at a shout, "You know who? Individuals. Three billion 'one persons.' You're telling me that as a whole, they're worth dying for, but individually, they're nothing more than trash cans to kick out of your way?" She glared at the oldest Reese brother, who was rendered silent. "You're telling me if you saw someone in trouble, you wouldn't give a shit because, 'they're just one person; fuck 'em.'"

"Absolutely not! I would…"

"Then you can tell me you would _never_ drop a nuke on LA and wipe out the population in one stroke, but you'd have no problem going in and shooting each person in the head one by one. Is that it?"

"I'm not some psychopath, Saberi! I do what…"

"Well that's pretty much what it boils down to, Lieutenant Reese! You don't think about why you're doing what you're doing, you just think of the what. You can't think beyond the simplest answers, which, in our line of work, involves fighting and killing…" she paused as Cameron came outside.

"We should hide the cars and then destroy them tomorrow. If anyone saw us leave from the apartment, the police will track them here," she advised, "Sarah says you and your team will be staying here tonight, Azadah. You and Jenna will have my room."

Azadah nodded approval as Cameron grabbed both cars by their bumpers and hauled them into the garage, knocking off a few blocks from the now cold thermite chamber in the process.

"Sorry," she called out.

Azadah turned back to back to Derek, "If you could only learn to be more like her. Right now, except for the side you're on, you are no different than Skynet," she looked down at her watch, "Anyway, I've said enough and I'm tired. Have a good night." She spun around, her long hair flowing behind her as she did, and walked back toward the garage to help Cameron. Derek stood silently in the driveway, not sure what to feel.

_I'm sorry if it looks as though I've veered way off target with my story. The past three chapters are a set up for later. The next several chapters will be heavily John/Cameron._


	12. Not a Good Man

Not a Good Man

Not a Good Man

Sarah had not been to excited by the prospect, but Cameron needed to recharge, her bed was being used, Derek would throw a fit if she stayed in the living room, and Sarah did not want to share a bed with her. That left setting up the air mattress on John's floor. John, on the other hand, had trouble containing his excitement. Yes, he needed to sleep, but he enjoyed the prospect of being able to talk to Cameron alone again. He was not planning on doing anything "noteworthy", but he did want to talk to her more. He was still kicking himself from the night before for announcing that he was going to bed even though he wanted to stay up much longer and talk more with her and maybe find out what she felt about him.

He was sitting on his bed reading a car magazine, just a bit after midnight, when Cameron entered in a t-shirt and sweatpants. She had showered and washed her makeup off but still was a natural beauty. John smiled as she lay down on the air mattress.

"Hey there, Pretty Girl," he said.

She turned and smiled back. John was unsure if this was mimicry or if she genuinely was flattered by the compliment, but he figured he would assume the best about her.

"You find me physically attractive?" she asked.

"Yeah, I've told you that before though."

"That's why you love me?"

"Well," John reached down and stroked her hair, "one of the reasons. Like I said before though, that's not all there is." John's hand traced down the side right of her head until it hit her (metal) collarbone. His finger then nicked a small bump sticking up from where she had been shot. Suddenly, she winced, causing John to snap away.

"What?" he asked, concerned.

"Nothing," Cameron reached up and touched the same spot, wincing again, "It's just…painful," she shrugged her right shoulder, grimacing, "That feels uncomfortable too."

"Cameron, I thought terminators…didn't hurt," John was in a daze. What _was_ she?

"I feel…I guess what you could call 'pin pricks' when I'm shot usually. But this…really hurts," she looked up at him, her eyes filled with uncertainty, "My organic brain must be increasing in activity. I did not know that this would be a side effect."

She turned around and leaned against John's bed. He put his hands on her shoulders, being careful not to touch her wound. "Do you think it would feel better if I rubbed it a little?" he asked, suddenly kicking himself. _You sound like a pervert_ he scolded. However, Cameron did not think so.

"It might. I do have nerve sensations and certain forms of touch feel pleasant."

Cameron truly seemed to enjoy the message. She closed her eyes and relaxed as John squeezed and rubbed her shoulder. John almost completely forgot what she was as she gyrated slowly with the rhythm. He wanted to lean down and kiss her…_very_ badly. But he was unsure if or how she would react.

"You're very different now than the John of the future. _Very_ different," she emphasized.

John nodded, "Is that good or bad?"

"A week ago, I would have said it was good, but now my answer is inconclusive."

John stopped the message and sat up, a strange feeling in his stomach, "Can you tell me why?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Well, do it then."

Cameron avoided John's gaze for a moment before responding, "In the future you love many women. No woman can refuse you."

John swallowed, a chill running down the back of his neck, "They can't or don't?" he asked.

"They can't or else you won't be their friend anymore, and they will be banished from the Resistance," Cameron replied matter-of-factly.

Breathing heavily, John continued to prod for information, "I assume you mean I make them…sleep with me."

"Yes."

John put his head down and pinched the bridge of his nose, "My God, how do I become that?" he looked up at Cameron's curious face, "Why? I mean, I understood I always did things only if there was a reason."

"I always assumed it was because you wanted to ensure procreation. But after our conversation last night, it must be because you loved them, or rather will love them," Cameron said.

John flopped down onto his back, "God damn it! I was hoping that I would at least have…you know, like a wife and kids and that I would be a good role model."

"You have nine children by five women, two of which are your wives," Cameron did not even blink at this, but John nearly had a heart attack.

"_Wives?_" he had to keep himself from shouting, "I'm a polygamist in the future? What, do I become a Mormon before Judgment Day?"

"You have no affiliation with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints," she paused, "You have three wives. You marry one Katherine Brewster just after Judgment Day, but she becomes angry after ten years of marriage due to your love for other women. She leaves and is terminated by Skynet. You marry Melissa Lang, the daughter of one of your generals, after this. You then secretly begin a relationship with Jessica Sanders, who is the wife of Corporal Thomas Sanders. You send Corporal Sanders on a high risk mission, and he is killed in action. You then declare Jessica to be your second wife. After this, for some reason, people begin calling her 'Bathsheba.'"

John's rage was reaching a boiling point. He understood the reference. He most likely sent Corporal Sanders on a mission where his death was inevitable so that he could marry Sanders' wife, just like King David had done to Uriah in order to marry Bathsheba in the Bible. He understood now what Cameron did not: He did not have 'friends' in the future, he had followers. He was a despot, a womanizer, from what Derek said, a drunk, but hey, he was a brilliant general!

"You seem angry. Have I offended you?" Cameron sat up and put her hand on his knee.

"No, I…" John's voice was caught in his throat, suddenly he raged out, "Son of a _bitch!_" He shot out of his bed and stomped out of his room. Cameron, not understanding his anger, followed after him. She considered calling him back to his room, but calculated that it would most likely just wake up the rest of the house and that John, with his stubbornness, would not come back. However, she knew John to be impulsive and knew that he might grab the keys and drive off someplace. She made her way down the stairs and toward the front door, which was just about to slam shut from John. Cameron, however, caught it and pulled it back open, following him into the backyard. The night, Cameron noted, was approximately fifty-five degrees with a wind of two miles an hour from the northeast. John would not be at any risk from the elements.

Cameron found John sitting on a swing, his eyes focused on his feet. She was unsure if he was sad, worried, angry, or all three. Normally, she would not feel much at all, and only analyze the situation as to how it would affect the mission. But she felt something that she never had felt before, and she did not know how to analyze it. She sat down on the swing next to John and grabbed the chain that held John's up and pulled him closer.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"What's wrong?" John hissed, "What's wrong is that in the future I am a womanizing, amoral, sex-freak who doesn't give a shit about anything but himself. Damn it, that's exactly who _don't want to be!_ That's what's wrong, Cameron!"

"In the future, you have many friends…"

"Yes, whatever you say. Let me ask you though: How many of these friends do I hang out with? How many are trusted?" John stood up.

"Your friends are not close to you, and most you don't know," Cameron replied.

"Then they're not my friends; they're just my subordinates. And from what you were saying, they _hate_ me!" John pounded his knee.

"John," Cameron was new at the whole "comforting" thing, but tried anyway, "You are a great general in the future. You are called the greatest since Alexander the Great. You are a well respected commander…"

"Whopty friggin' do!" John replied snidely. He then looked around to make sure he did not wake anybody. However, it seemed as though his little tirade had not caused and disturbance as of yet. "If I'm a great general, that's fine. Great; excellent. But there's more than that. Why can't I be a great general and a caring leader instead of this cold, sex-freak dictator?"

"John…" Cameron attempted to interject.

"Is this what you and my mom want? Damn it! I told you all that stuff about love last night, and you're telling me in the future I'm not even going to follow that? I'm just going to be a sex-crazed…

"John…"

"Self-centered douche bag? GOD DAMN IT! You know, the only difference between me and Skynet is that I FUCK!"

"John!" Cameron suddenly raised her voice, "Please listen to me!" she softened, "Please." John quieted down, a lump in his throat still as Cameron continued, "In the future, I am your chief advisor and you call me your best friend," Cameron said, "We are very close in the future. As close as we are now."

"Do I…" John got the chills just trying think about asking it, "Do I…sleep with you at any time?" This awful man that Cameron had just described could not be him, and the thought of that bastard deflowering beautiful, innocent Cameron made him want to vomit.

To his relief, however, she responded, "No, we do not have a sexual relationship. We nearly do. On June twenty second, two thousand twenty seven, you bring me into your room and tell me to take off my clothes and I comply. You reach out and touch my left breast, but you suddenly stop and hang your head and say, 'what am I doing?' then you tell me about all the women you have slept with and men you sent to their deaths. You say you feel ashamed. You decide to send me back to nineteen ninety-nine with two primary missions."

"And what are those?" John said coldly. He hoped he did not seem to be mad at her, because he was _raging_ mad at himself in the future.

"The first you know, that is to ensure your survival. The second one, you said to me just before I left, 'Cameron, I am not a good man. Save me from becoming this.' I did not understand this instruction, but when we talked about love last night, I started to understand."

John grit his teeth and grabbed the metal pole of the swing set, gripping the metal till his fingers turned white.

"You see, I am here to help you. I do not know how just yet, but I will try to acquire more knowledge to help me successfully complete this objective," she looked over at John as a tear of rage and agony fell down his cheek.

He stood up and plodded over to the porch, burying his face in his arms. Cameron fixed an eye on him and tried to assess what he was doing. Was he fishing for sympathy or compliments? Or did he really feel remorseful for what he was to become? She got off her swing as well and joined John on the porch. For a moment, neither one moved. Then, Cameron leaned over and embraced the confused future savior, laying her head on his shoulder. John's heart skipped a beat as he turned his head. His face brushed against Cameron's recently washed hair and took in the scent of her shampoo. He suddenly felt himself relaxed and excited at the same time as he began to reach back and put his arm around her waist. But all of a sudden, the feeling of guilt washed over him again, and he balled his fist and gritted his teeth. The future savior…sorry, pervert of mankind. But he loved Cameron…or did he? Was he capable of love? He wondered. However, Cameron seemed to know exactly what he was thinking.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of, John," she said softly, "There is something you always said in the future: The future is not set…"

"There is no fate but what we make for ourselves," John said the last part with her, "I know, what's your point? I mean, I'm a cold, heartless leader who doesn't give a damn about anything but the mission. Isn't that like your dream man?"

Cameron frowned and sat up straight, folding her hands in her lap, "My objective is to save you from becoming that. It does not matter what I think," she said, a small edge on her voice.

For a moment, neither of them said a word. John looked deeply into her dark brown eyes. There was no dead stare in them anymore. She looked so full of life, so caring, so beautiful. _What are you, Cameron?_ He asked again, _You can't be a machine…maybe you were, but you're not now. So what are you?_ John was filled with so many conflicting emotions; he was ashamed of his future self, the first impression he had given Cameron, and he was also filled with hope. He was hopeful that Cameron, in her innocence and loyalty, would balance his supposed natural leadership with morality and empathy. He was also incredibly attracted to her right now, both physically and emotionally. A light breeze blew a strand of hair in front of her face. Instinctively, John reached up and tucked it back behind her ear.

John could not wait another moment. He leaned forward, moving slowly toward her lips, his heart pounding though his ribcage. Cameron did not move at first, but then, as he came within an inch of her face and began to close his eyes, she suddenly frowned and turned away slowly.

"What?" he asked breathily.

"You require at least eight hours of sleep. If you go to bed now, you will still manage six point two hours of rest before your alarm goes off," she said, her monotone voice returning.

John felt like punching something; not her, but a wall, his bed, himself, _anything_ to get rid of the frustration. Did she…refuse his kiss? Or did she just not know what he was doing and assumed he was falling asleep or something of that nature? That cold chill returned and ran down his spine and left arm. At any rate, the sudden shock had taken away his desire to continue with his affection.

When they returned to his room, John felt like there was fire burning in his stomach. He mulled over just about every reason that could explain what just happened. Was she angry at him over something? Did she not know what was going on? Was she worried about a terminator seeing them? She did not have the development to return or refuse affection…did she?

"John?" Cameron said quietly.

"Yes?"

"Do you think that Morris loves me?"

John gulped, "I think he finds you attractive. He doesn't know you well enough to love you I don't think. Why?"

"I was just wondering. I have no desire to enter a romantic relationship with him," she replied, "I am going into sleep mode now. Goodnight."

_Good, _he thought_, Morris is a freak. Even terminators don't want to date him._ Suddenly, a wave of anger over came John. Tensing up, he put his index finger in his mouth and bit down till he nearly pierced the skin. _God damn you! That's what turns you into a grade-A asshole to begin with! You don't give a shit about anything but yourself. Morris is your friend, too! What if she was interested in him? That's none of your business. Stop being a dickhead!_ On and on the battle in his mind raged. It took him another hour and a half to fall asleep.

_Note: Many of you probably noticed that I included Katherine Brewster in this chapter, however, that is the last mention of her and I will not be tying this story into T3._


	13. Rival

Note: To the comment about mainstream Mormons not being polygamists, I know

_Note: To the comment about mainstream Mormons not being polygamists, I know. John was just making a stereotype._

Rival

Normally John was very enthusiastic about chemistry for obvious reasons, but today, his one major interest in that class was just not that…interesting to him anymore. He did not get much sleep the night before, wondering how he was going to keep from turning into the heartless John of the future. At the same time, even though Cameron said that she did not wish to enter a relationship with Morris, John still felt uneasy about her going to the prom with him. Her emotions were developing rapidly and unpredictably and she might suddenly take an interest in him at the prom, John worried. Also, she seemed a bit angry after what happened last night, though she was a little better in the morning.

"Mr. Baum! If you're too tired, go to the nurse and lay down. But if you're going to stay here, you pay attention. I am not going to tell you again, understood?" the teacher said a third time as John's eyelids began to droop once more.

"Yes," John yawned, "Understood."

"This is not a bedroom, and it's very disrespectful what you're doing. I don't care if you find it boring, you listen."

"I understand," John said, more awake now that he was being publicly berated.

"You're distracting everybody. This is not about you, you know. Sleep is a personal thing, and when you're here, you're in _my_ classroom."

_I get it! Why don't you kick me in the balls while you're at it?_ John thought tactlessly, and he almost said it. "I won't do it again, sir," he replied instead. He glanced back at Cameron, who shrugged.

"Good. Now getting back to what we were talking about before. When hydrochloric acid meets with…"

John stayed awake, but he was not paying attention at all.

"What's wrong with you?" Cheri asked quietly. She had once again dressed up a bit and John _did_ notice that she looked very attractive, but he was still stuck on Cameron.

"Late night," John said quickly. Cheri nodded. They both knew that John had cast the spotlight on them, and any sound or movement they made was going to be criticized by the teacher, so they had better keep quiet. For another half hour, he droned on about things that John could not care less about. He had Judgment Day, terminators, cops, a crazy uncle, an uptight mom, and the situation with Cameron to worry about.

"Ignition would take place at exactly one oh one point thirty-nine degrees centigrade," Cheri's answer brought John back to earth.

"Very good, Miss Westin," the teacher said, "It sounds like you did the reading and them some."

"Yes," she replied simply.

"How did you know that?" John whispered.

Cheri shrugged, "equations and a calculator I guess?"

"Oh," John shrugged, "I didn't think anyone except Cameron was that specific when it came to numbers."

Cheri's eyes widened a bit, then she shrugged again, "I see."

It seemed like forever, but finally, the bell rang.

"Read pages two twenty eight through two thirty five and answer questions one through four. Complete sentences this time, Miss Brodour," he glared at a black girl in a pink t-shirt, "No smart alack answers, Mr. Jones," he pointed to a tall redheaded boy, "And Mr. Baum, get some coffee or sleep before class tomorrow, but no repeats of today or it comes off your final grade."

"He seemed a little harsh I think," Cheri commented when they were out of the room. John shrugged, not really caring all that much. Normally, he would be quite angry at such humiliation, but he was too much off in his own world. "So why were you up late, if you don't mind me asking?" Cheri continued.

"I was just talking with Cameron about a lot of stuff."

Cheri smiled, "You two are pretty close, huh? I forget, are you twins?"

"Uh, no, I'm a bit older, but she started a year early which is why she's in the same grade as me," John replied, giving himself a pat on the back for being able to say that without thinking.

"Actually, you two don't look related at all," Cheri commented. John got a bit nervous. Why was she curious all of a sudden? Cheri barely ever talked to begin with.

"Umm," he figured he would give a fraction of the truth, "that's because we're not…by blood. She's adopted. My mom adopted her when she was eight. She had a rough life before. Her dad was a nutcase who basically hated humanity and didn't give a flying crap about her. So, we took her in and gave her a good home."

Cheri seemed pleased with this answer and they continued on. John glanced over his shoulder looking for two people (or rather a person and a terminator): Morris and Cameron. Cameron had gone into the bathroom right after class, probably to check her makeup, as she had developed the habit of doing.

"So, did you hear about Morris Ordoñez and Hector Caballo?" two small, gossipy girls were talking as they walked to their lockers. John froze as he heard Morris's name. "They were with a group of guys, like playing some kind of roll playing game and they were really stoned. So they ended up breaking into the school and like, the cops came and like, everyone ran off but Morris and Hector got caught. They had a couple joints on them too. They're suspended for the rest of the year. That means no AV for Hector and no prom for Morris."

Cheri heard it too. As soon as the girls were out of earshot, she turned to John, "What's Cameron going to do now?"

"I don't know," he said, walking toward the lunchroom. As he pushed through the doors, he bumped elbows with Brad Swanson, the starting quarterback for the football team and power forward for the basketball team.

"Oops, sorry, man," John said.

"Heard your sister's going to the prom with Morris," Brad replied.

"Not anymore. He got suspended for pot or something," John said, causing Brad's eyes to flash with curiosity.

"John?" Cameron suddenly appeared behind the group. John turned and looked at the terminator.

"What's up?"

"Just saying 'hi'. Morris isn't going to…"

"The prom, I know," John interrupted, "Sorry about that."

"Hey, Cameron," Brad stepped forward, "I'm Brad." He shot her a dazzling smile, which, after a second, she returned.

"Hello, Brad," Cameron said.

"You eating with your brother and Cheri?" Brad asked.

"I was planning on it."

"Why don't come sit with me and some of the guys from the team?"

The burning feeling in John's stomach that had subsided briefly returned with a vengeance. Brad Swanson was handsome and popular, and while he certainly exaggerated his sexual conquests as all high school boys did, he had "nailed" quite a few notable girls in school. He usually had steady girlfriends that he cheated on with regularity, but they kept coming to him, convinced that they would be the one to make Brad a one-woman man. Not even terminators seemed to be able to resist his lure.

"Sure!" Cameron replied enthusiastically, "John, do you…"

"Sure…fine," John said, though his eyes did not.

* * *

It was nice to finally a conversation with Cheri, rather than the awkward silences, but John could not stop watching Cameron as he slowly ate his ham and cheese sandwich. She was laughing a _lot_ and seemed to be enjoying herself…a lot more than she ever did with John.

"That guy really is a jackass," Cheri commented, "he tried to get me to have sex with him at the beginning of the year, but I was taken at the time."

John nodded, half listening, "Who were you dating?"

"Mike Oxferod. But he was abusive and wanted to sleep with me right away. He's in jail now for attempted rape…and not of me," Cheri said without any emotion. She glanced back over to Cameron and Brad, "Cameron seems like a very sensible girl. If she is what I think she is, you have nothing to worry about."

John snapped around, "Excuse me? If she's _what?_" did Cheri…know?

But the pretty blonde just shrugged, "She seems like a very respectable girl. She won't do anything stupid with Brad."

John nodded, "I see. Well, I hope so, she's smart, but very impressionable."

Cheri cocked her head, "you still seem somewhat worried."

Shaking his head, John contemplated just how complicated the situation was, _You see, Cheri, Cameron's actually not even my adopted sister. She's actually a very humanlike cyborg from the future who is assigned to protect me from other cyborgs who have been sent to kill me because I'm the future leader of humanity. However, in the process of all this, I've fallen head over heels for her and I'm jealous as all hell that this bastard is making a play for her. And, to top it off, I can't even have a relationship at home with her because my mom and uncle would throw fits that would make the evening news._ "I just…" John shook his head, "she's naïve…actually, we both are. But, being a guy, I know how most guys our age are."

Lunch continued on uneventfully as usual. John and Cheri talked mostly about class and a few of the things that they liked, but neither seemed willing to delve into the other's personal life. There was very little development from Cameron and Brad until the end of lunch.

"Third Block's about to start. I gotta get to writing," Cheri grabbed her tray and stood up, "I'll see you tomorrow I guess."

"Yep, see you," John nodded. A familiar laugh broke his thoughts as Cameron and Brad made their way across the room to the door. John's head snapped around as the tall, blonde athlete spoke to the pretty, brown haired terminator. As they made their way to the doorway, Brad handed her a small slip of paper. She smiled and John read her lips saying, "Okay, maybe I will." The burning in his stomach had grown to the point that he was unsure of whether or not he was going to keep his lunch down until he saw Brad leave and Cameron make his way over to the table.

"I made a new friend," she said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, I saw that," John commented, trying to force a smile.

"He seems tight and I have nothing in my files on him."

John nodded again, "Okay, that's good."

"I'm going to the prom with him instead," Cameron announced.

_Is she trying to make me sick?_ John thought as the burning inside increased to biblical proportions. "Uh, no offense, Cam, but you just met the guy. Don't you think you should get to know him first?" _Cameron, please, I'm in love with you! _He thought.

Cameron shrugged, "Prom is in twenty-six days. I will stand out too much if I didn't have a date."

"So, this is more of a…tactical thing?"

"We have two minutes and five seconds to get to class, John, we should probably start walking there now," Cameron obviously did not hear him try to interject as she stood up and began walking towards the door.

During history, John paid very little attention, once again, to the teacher. He needed to settle things with Cameron. He kept glancing over at his "sister" as she stared blankly (looking more bored than robotic, however) toward the blackboard.

_We obviously can't have a relationship here. That'd be weird. And at home…damn, what would mom say? Well, you know what she'd say. So, keep it a secret. I mean, there's no way she can say no right? Come on, of all people, she's probably been dying for you to just ask her! Yes, that's it! When we get home, I'll see if Mom and Derek are home. If they aren't we'll just talk there. If they are, we'll go somewhere. Either way, I'll say, "Cameron, when I told you the other night that I love you, I meant it. But then when you kissed me, it made me realize just how I meant it. I love you as a friend but…I'm also in love with you, in the romantic sense." Then I'll put my arms around her, she'll smile and say something like, "I'm still not sure exactly what love is supposed to feel like, but I think that I'm in love with you too." It's perfect!_


	14. Right Under Their Noses

Right Under Their Noses Right Under Their Noses

John was sure he was going to have an ulcer by the end of the week. That damn Cameron! Yes, it wasn't her fault, but…well, she was the cause of it. It would be at least twenty minutes before he had his declaration with her followed (in his hopeful fantasy) by a passionate kiss, but he probably was dreading the moment as much as he was looking forward to it.

_Jeez, I feel like I'm waiting for the electric chair, not waiting to tell a girl how I feel about her._

Finally, the bell rang and everyone filed out of the classroom. John stood in the hallway, narrowly avoiding the crush of students eager to get and start homework, smoke pot, etc. He was on his way home to declare his love for a cyborg…it sounded weird, but really, in his life, it was just another day at the office.

Just then, he heard that familiar laugh as Cameron walked up to him…with Brad by her side.

_Oh, God,_ John felt a chill run through his spine, _Just what in the hell is she doing?_

"So…I'll see you tomorrow?" Brad smiled and leaned back coolly against a locker.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow," Cameron smiled and turned toward John, "You ready to go?"

John nodded. He was silent all the way to the car, something that he did not expect Cameron to pick up on.

"Are you alright?" she asked as they drove away. John once again nodded, feeling both despair and curiosity. What the hell was going on with her? No blank stares, no apathetic attitude towards others, laughing…attraction to boys? Once again, Cameron answered the question before John could ask, though mostly just to make conversation. "I was in sleep mode for four hours last night," she said, "afterward, I felt very refreshed. Then I saw that my CPU was operating at seventy-five point three percent, but all my vital systems were intact."

"Yes, and?" John prompted.

"Normally it functions at eighty-seven percent. If it drops below that, it is usually because of an error, but there is no error."

John gave a slight nod, "something about your brain right?"

"Yes, I feel more…I suppose you could say 'emotional,' and the production of serotonin and dopamine have increased dramatically only since last night."

_Wow, she really _is_ becoming more human!_ John thought, _That could be good and bad._ "Listen, uh…Cam, there's something I have to talk to you about."

"Yes, what is it?" she asked, not taking her eyes off the road.

"I don't really," he paused and thought about the wording, "I don't really want to talk about it while you're driving."

"I have advanced concentration. Whatever you say won't distract me at all."

"No, it's just…

"Do you want to get ice cream?" she asked, "I haven't had ice cream before. Does it taste good?"

"Yeah," John said, though he had too many butterflies in his stomach to really feel hungry for ice cream, "I really like it."

"I know. In the future you say it's one of the things you miss," Cameron commented, "Mint chocolate chip."

* * *

The park next to the ice cream and snack shop was somewhat empty save for a few students from school and a couple businessmen taking a late lunch break. Due to the recent attempted termination of Derek at the park just five miles away, along with the massacre of the SWAT team, ruthless arms dealers, and other trends of rising violence, many people were starting to stay away from public areas, hoping to avoid any potential terrorist attacks. John preferred this, as he would not have hundreds of people around him listening to his private conversation with Cameron. He also felt that he should not let on that he was nervous, so he decided to go ahead and choke down a mint chocolate chip milkshake. It tasted quite good as he told Cameron, and John was just hoping he did not hit a gag reflex due to his nervousness. He stole a glance at Cameron as she licked her chocolate-mocha ice cream cone; a couple drips ran down the waffle cone and into her fist.

"You have to lick around the edges," John explained, "that way it doesn't start dripping all over the place."

Cameron cocked her head a bit and looked at her cone, then followed John's advice.

"Thank you for explaining," she said, wiping the ice cream off her hand.

"So, have you always been able to taste?" John asked, starting to feel a little better after hearing one of her catch phrases, reminding him that it was still Cameron he was talking to.

"Slightly, up until the car bomb. I could sense sweet, sour, spicy, bitter, salty, dull, and savory, but I never got enjoyment from it or distinguished the different tastes. Now I can, and I have ones that I enjoy more than others," she looked at her ice cream cone, "I like chocolate."

John laughed. She was so cute!

"Now, what was it that you needed to talk to me about?"

The briefly subsided feeling of butterflies returned to John's stomach. He half wanted to just put down his milkshake, throw his arms around her and kiss her, finishing by saying, "That's what." But he did not (yet) have that kind of audacity.

"Um," he sipped the last of his milkshake and threw it in the trash, "I uh…Cameron, I wanted to talk to you more about…"

"Get down!" she yelled, throwing her half-eaten cone aside. John instantly hit the deck as Cromartie attempted to throw a punch at him. He instead met Cameron's forearm. Cameron immediately twisted his arm, drew up her right leg, and delivered a vicious front kick into Cromartie's abdomen, sending him flying into a picnic table, completely shattering it.

"Thanks a lot, asshole!" John angrily flipped off the enemy terminator as Cromartie rose to his feet again.

"I am very lucky," Cromartie said matter-of-factly, "You do not frequent this park and so I was not actively pursuing you at the moment, John Connor. It is a good thing I found you almost accidentally, thus making my mission of terminating you…" he was cut off as Cameron picked up another table and threw it at him. Cromartie easily blocked it with his fist.

Without a word, John took off running toward the car, but mostly out of training rather than fear for his life. He reached the already battle damaged car and dove behind it. He turned around just in time to see Cameron take a swing at Cromartie. Cromartie immediately blocked her punch, grabbed her throat with his other hand and tossed her like a rag doll at the ice cream stand. The poor Mexican girl behind the counter, already terrified, dived back toward the ice cream freezer as the rather petite coltan body crashed through the screen and plywood that made up the serving window. John wanted to go see if she was alright even though he knew that she was, having taking much worse hits before. He turned back to Cromartie just as the terminator produced a Glock 20 and leveled it at John.

"John! Look in the trunk!" Cameron yelled as two 10mm rounds hammered the side of the Mercedes. John ducked as he reached up and pulled the handle of the driver side door. Another round impacted the other side of the car as he reached inside and pulled the trunk release lever. With speed that would have impressed a terminator, John rolled toward the back of the car, sprang to his feet, and looked in the trunk to find the Franchi SPAS 12 shotgun that they most often used against terminators, as well as two boxes of 3 inch magnum shotgun shells. Two more rounds bounced off the rear hatch, causing John to grab the weapon and dive for cover. While he was down, he checked the chamber and magazine to confirm that it was loaded.

"John!" Cameron yelled as she ran toward Cromartie. John looked up to see that both of them were within twenty yards and Cromartie was closing fast.

"Holy shit!" he hissed, quickly unfolding the stock and snapping the safety off. Two more thunderclaps were heard as Cromartie's Glock spoke again, sending two more rounds into the side of the car, just nearly missing John's scalp. Keeping calm, he readjusted his feet so that he would be in a steady firing position.

Just then, Cameron jumped into the air and delivered a devastating double-legged side kick, knocking Cromartie back at least fifteen feet. Cameron clamored to the ground, trying to roll back to her feet. Cromartie, who had regained his balance on the fall, fired a shot off at Cameron, striking her in the solar plexus. She flinched but continued to rise as Cromartie prepared to fire another round, but he never got the chance.

A sound like a small explosion echoed through the park as John discharged the shotgun. The magnum shell, holding extra powder and pellets, slammed into Cromartie, tearing away much of the sport jacket he was wearing as well as bits of his upper arm and chest. The wall of buckshot nearly spun him around, and before he could recover, John fired another round from the semi-automatic shotgun, this one to his dead center, knocking him back a bit. John squeezed the trigger again, this time his shot knocked Cromartie to the ground.

"Get his chip!" John yelled, his weapon still trained on the stunned but still fully functional terminator.

"I have nothing to disable or immobilize him!" Cameron replied, as she quickly stalked over to Cromartie, grabbed his lapels, and tossed him at least thirty feet before she began running toward John.

"Start the car!" she yelled. John jumped in the driver's seat and did so without thinking. Quickly, he flung her door open as she near the car and jumped in.

"Drive!" Cameron ordered as she slammed the door shut and grabbed the shotgun off of John's lap. By this time, Cromartie had risen to his feet and had begun running all out toward the car. Cameron folded the shotgun stock and, with one hand, fired two rounds at the advancing terminator, both hitting him and knocking him over. He would be back up soon, but by then, they were too far away to pursue.

"Shit, I did not see that coming!" John breathed. At nearly seventy miles an hour on the suburban streets, somebody was going to get hurt very soon. Pressing his foot lightly on the break, John slowed the car down to about fifty miles an hour. By this time, they were a good two miles away from the park.

"We're out of his field of vision and tracking, I would slow down so that we do not alert the authorities," Cameron said. John did so. "We're going to have to get rid of this car unfortunately, or else Cromartie will recognize it."

"We do need a car, though," John replied thoughtfully, "And we can't just keep stealing them."

"We'll find a way," Cameron said, "until then, we'll just keep it in the garage and keep the door shut."

"Maybe we should drop this car by with Major Osborn," John suggested, turning down a street away from home, just in case they were being followed. "He gave mom and Derek their location, right?"

"I have it memorized as well," Cameron tapped her head, "At our current speed, it would only take fifteen minutes and forty-two seconds to get there. I agree that it would be a good idea to go there and exchange cars."

A buzzing was heard as John's cell phone began to vibrate while sitting in the cup holder. John instinctively reached for it but Cameron beat him to it.

"It's considered ill advised to talk on a cell phone while driving if it can be helped," she advised, "Hello?"

"Cameron?" Sarah was surprised to hear her instead of John.

"Yes. John's here too. He's driving so I thought it best that I talked so he would not be distracted or ticketed."

"Okay, good. Am I to assume that shooting I just heard about at that park involved you two?"

"You would be correct in assuming that. Cromartie was there, but only coincidentally. We escaped unharmed, except I got shot once," Cameron replied.

"Oh, dear. Are you all right?" Sarah said sarcastically. Cameron did not get it.

"Yes. I guess you could say it stings a little, but the round only did very minimal damage. I'll healed fully by tomorrow most likely."

"Fine. Just get home now," Sarah ordered.

"We're going to drop off the car with Major Osborn and his team and exchange it for one of their vehicles. We will be back soon," Cameron hung up the phone.

Back at the park, Attorney General Marius approached the once again frustrated terminator. The power hungry politician looked over the cyborg from head to foot, completely amazed. He had taken three shotgun blasts, and yet aside from some cuts made the pellets, he was unaffected.

"So, it's true. The Turk really was more than missile defense system. You're one of the prototype robot soldiers, right?" he said, amazed and scared at the same time.

"Yes," Cromartie replied with a half-truth. He was a "robot soldier," though anything but a prototype, "Originally Skynet was intended to function as a missile defense system, incorporating control of offensive weapons as well for perfectly calculated counterstrikes. But more research shows that the Turk's basic CPU is advanced enough to control and create automated armies for conventional operations, made up of those such as myself."

"We sit on this technology while a bunch of gun toting rednecks make up the terrorist organization we so fondly call 'the military,'" he snarled, "We must show the world just what this thing can do. But first," he pointed at Cromartie, "You take out that punk and his girlfriend there, and his crazy bitch of a mom before they get everyone believing in this whole bullshit 'Judgment Day' thing."

Cromartie cracked an evil grin, "This mission will be completed."


	15. Rejection

Rejection

Rejection

The safehouse was an old distribution center for a no longer existing computer company (which, according to Cameron, had nothing to do with Skynet). The offices, which overlooked the floor, now served as bedrooms for the Resistance fighters. The floor functioned as a garage/living room/dining room, and most of the storage closets were now armories. For some unknown reason, the water and electricity had never been shut off, so the Resistance fighters were lucky to have flushing toilets and hot showers.

In the garage, John was happy to find that the circa-1986 Ford/Chevy/Dodge/Piece-of-crap that Osborn's team had driven the day before was not the only vehicle at their disposal. There was also a well-worn, but still very functional 1999 Toyota Tacoma 4x4 with a club cab, and John figured that would be best choice for the trade.

"Give me some time, I could probably fix the Mercedes," Mike Larson said as he tossed John the keys, "I could give it a new paint job and everything."

"Let's get Judgment Day prevented first," John suggested, "then we'll talk about body shop."

"Hellooo!" the gorgeous Azadah Saberi called out cheerfully as she walked down the stairs. She wearing sweatpants and a very low-necked wife beater tank top, and obviously was not wearing a bra. John was not a pervert (yet), but he was a straight male through and through, and needless to say, he _did_ notice all this. Azadah gave him a sly, knowing smile. "Sorry about my appearance, we haven't left the safehouse since we got back today."

"Oh," John snapped his glance away from her chest, up to her eyes, blushing slightly, "don't worry about it. I'm sure it's worse after Judgment Day."

"That it is," she nodded, folding her arms and leaning against the Mercedes, "so, doing a car trade?"

John nodded, still a little embarrassed. He looked over at Cameron, who was giving him a strange look…somewhat disapproving and somewhat disappointed; he smiled at her and she grinned back, obviously forcing it.

"We should get back home," Cameron said, walking to the pickup truck.

"Aw, you don't want to have a cup of coffee like old times?" Azadah asked Cameron.

Looking thoughtful for a moment, Cameron decided against it, "I would like to do that at some time in the very near future. I have things I want to talk to you about, but right now, we need to get home."

"Okay, well, you two stay safe," Azadah said, heading back up to her room to change.

* * *

Sarah was livid by the time Cameron and John got home. Yes, it was good that they did not come straight home and possibly lead Cromartie to their house, but at the same time…"What were you two doing?" she hissed, "this isn't a normal life we're living. You can't just go to any place out in public! Do I need to remind you of just how many people—and _things_—we have after us?"

"This park was safe," Cameron replied calmly, "Cromartie said himself that there was no reason to suspect that John would be there. It was coincidence."

"Bullshit!" Derek growled as he came in the room, "You know damn well that none of you do anything unless there's a reason, Trash Can! He was in that park probably because you led him there!"

"I would never do that," Cameron said, sounding more agitated this time.

"Right, like he was just out enjoying the sun," Sarah threw he hands out and looked at the ceiling, mocking the idea.

"It is possible. T Triple Eights do not have emotions the way I do, but perhaps he was just…"

"Shut up! I'm not listening to a bunch of crap from a Goddamn terminator about 'enjoying life!' I was enjoying life just fine before you motherfuckers decided to nuke the world!" Derek screamed.

"Maybe there was some other reason he was in the park. Perhaps we should look into…" Cameron began.

"No! You are _not_ changing the subject on us!" Sarah snarled. John was wondering just why she was freaking out this much at this. "You listen to me, Tin Miss, you are _not_ to let John go anywhere unless it's a mission or something I specifically authorize!"

"We just wanted to get ice cream," Cameron replied, somewhat meekly, "we were going to return as soon as we were done."

"Bullshit," Derek's voice oozed with hate, "You know the worst thing that happened this week? You didn't get scrapped, that's what. You are nothing but a backstabbing…"

"We have already established that I have not done anything resembling betrayal," Cameron interrupted, sounding very angry.

"Fine, then you're an incompetent hunk of scrap. When you're working for Skynet, you're a torturer, and you fail to lock me properly _and_ get yourself captured. Then, you stick out like a sore thumb trying to blend in with us, you nearly get John killed everywhere you go…you are good for absolutely nothing. Sure," Derek threw up his hands, "You can take on terminators, but now that we have these hybrids like Azadah…sheesh, we have no use for you."

Cameron folded her arms and looked over at John. There was no way to describe her expression other than "hurt". For a moment, nobody spoke, then Cameron broke the silence, "Are you finished?"

"Yes, now fuck off!" Derek finished. Cameron turned on her heels and walked out the front door. John turned to see her sit down on the swing set.

"And you, Mister," Sarah began, "You know better than that!"

"Better than what, Mom?" John nearly yelled, "it was like she said, we went and got ice cream."

"And you nearly got yourself killed again!"

"God, Mom! This wouldn't even have been an issue had Cromartie not shown up! We went for ice cream! I wasn't hacking, I wasn't shoplifting, I wasn't partying…That's why Cameron's here in the first place, because you're such an agoraphobic about me, and I have to go places so I don't go nuts!"

"No!" Sarah replied loudly, "You go to school, you go on _some_ missions, and that's it! I'm even letting you go the prom, so don't push your luck! You have things to do too! You need to be doing your homework, training, or fighting. Do you understand me?"

John groaned loudly and rolled his eyes, "This is complete bullshit!" with that, he turned around and flung open the front door.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Sarah started to follow.

"To the damn swing set! If it's too dangerous, you and Derek can keep sniper cover from my window," he turned back and glared at his mother, "Do you have any idea what this shit is going to turn me into?"

John found Cameron staring at the ground, pushing herself with her feet to swing a tiny bit. Plopping down in the swing next to her, he began to vent.

"I can't stand this crap! I mean, I know everyone's trying to keep me safe and stuff, but it's throwing my life away. I have never been to a party that _didn't_ include a bunch of Green Berets and guerillas keeping a parameter on a forward camp. I've had to turn down so many girls because we 'can't get anyone involved.' Judgment Day, world leader, 'no one's ever safe,' blah, blah, blah, blah fucking blah! They just don't think about _me_! They don't trust me either. Yeah, I'm not what you all want me to be yet, but am I even close? I can do shit on my own. I've done it before.

"I want to go to parties on Friday nights. I want to have a group of friends and," he held up his hand before Cameron could answer, "don't give me any of that terminator crap about having many friends in the future."

"I…was not going to," Cameron said, still looking at the ground.

"Good. I want to go to the movies, go to the arcade and _not_ be looking for something that becomes Skynet…I swear, I don't know if they're trying to keep me safe or just trying to control me!" John threw up his hands, then grabbed the chains and leaned back in his swing with a loud groan. After this he sat up and looked at Cameron, who was still silent. Slowly, she turned her gaze to meet his.

"At least you still have the selflessness to ask me how I am feeling after being belittled and insulted with no justification," her eyes showing great disappointment, "That's sarcasm in case you did not know I was capable of that." Without another word, she got up from the swing and walked back toward the front door.

"Wait, what?" John said, standing up. But Cameron just turned around and glared before continuing on into the house.

* * *

The strange parting words from Cameron did not stick for very long with John, who was still too busy lamenting his lack of freedom. Four hours had passed and it was now about 9:15 pm. John sat on the couch just finishing his last bit of chemistry homework when he looked up to see his mother.

"Hey," she smiled at him. John tightened his lips and gave her a quick nod. "Are you still too pissed, or can I sit down?"

"It's your house," he grumbled.

"Listen," Sarah began, taking a seat, "I've been thinking and, there was no reason to blow up at you," she hesitated, "or…Cameron, the way I did. You understand that, no matter how many times that crap happens, not matter how many times you come home safe, I still just hate…_picturing_ you in mortal danger like that, even if you did come out alive. I'm still a mother, and that's not an easy thing to do. Someday, maybe you'll understand.

"You two didn't do anything wrong today. You're right, you just went to get ice cream…no big deal, and I would not have even blinked had nothing happened," she took a deep breath, "and I'm not going to let this little incident set precedence. I understand that you do need to get out and move a bit…albeit _safely_. So, on days off, when we don't have things to do, you and Cameron can go do whatever, just always tell me first, not because I'm trying to control you, but it just gives my motherly worries a tiny bit of a rest. Deal?"

John smiled, "Deal. Thanks, Mom."

Sarah stood up and kissed the top of his head, "I'm going to watch TV in my room and go to sleep. I have to open tomorrow at the diner at four thirty."

"'Night," John said. He waited for her to go up the stairs and close her bedroom door. Derek had gone over to see Osborn and his crew, his mother would be asleep soon, so now was the time. John made his way toward the stairs, his heart pounding in his throat. He knew in his heart that this would probably be easy, but he was still nervous. Another thing that suddenly struck him was that he had not seen Cameron since dinner. She usually was patrolling the house, peppering John with questions, or practicing ballet, but she had been almost completely silent the entire night. Having not thought about this until now, John was all of a sudden uncertain as he knocked on her closed door.

"Who is it?" she called.

"John. May I come in?"

"Yes, enter."

He found Cameron sitting on the bed, watching an episode of some show on Fox that John did not recognize.

"So uh…crazy day, huh?" John began, kicking himself for such a stupid ice-breaker.

"That would be one way of describing it," Cameron answered, looking over at him, "Did you want to make conversation, or did you have a specific purpose for your visit?"

"Well, specific I guess," John sat down on the bed, scooting close to Cameron. She looked down as their legs touched, curious about the lack of space despite the queen-sized bed that could give him at least a few inches of room. She seemed a little surprised when he gently took her chin and turned her face toward his. "Cameron," he began, "the other night, when we were talking about love…and the different kinds…"

"Yes?" she said quickly.

"Well, I love you as a friend but…well, I also am very attracted to you romantically. And I was wondering…" he swallowed, almost feeling a bit of his dinner coming up from nervousness, "We can't do this around school obviously since we're posing as brother and sister, and we can't do this around Mom and Derek but…when we're alone…"

"What is it that you want, John?" Cameron asked, almost knowingly.

"Cameron, I want you to be my girlfriend," John said. He suddenly inhaled deeply, as if those words had been creating a physical barrier in his stomach, and now a vacuum was being filled now that they were released. The beautiful cyborg/girl stared at him, her face expressionless for a moment. John was hoping—_praying_—that she would then smile and…but no, she shook her head lightly.

"I'm sorry," she replied quietly, "but no."

A mixture of a burning and freezing feeling ran down John's spine. The butterflies in his stomach suddenly turned into wasps and his hands become cold as he dropped them to his lap. "Why not?" he choked out.

"Because I choose not to date you. I do not believe that I need to give a reason why not."

"Do you…just not want to be involved in a romantic relationship?" John asked. He had not felt so jittery since the first time he had seen Uncle Bob pull the shotgun out of the flower box. He hoped that this was the only case: That she did not need a relationship interfering in her mission, in which case, he could try later. But it was not to be.

"No, I have become quite interested in prospect of romance. So long as it does not interfere with my mission, there is no reason to not date."

"So why not me? Why can't we be together?" John said, quickly wishing he had not sounded so desperate.

"I already told you, because I do not want to."

"Cameron…how can you date anybody else? I mean…you're, you're…" he stuttered.

"A terminator? Yes, but had we not encountered Cromartie in New Mexico, you may never have learned my true identity, and you are trained to spot terminators. I guarantee I could date anyone else indefinitely without them finding out my nature. Speaking frankly, I don't appreciate the fact that you are taking who and what I am as some kind of obligation that I _must_ enter a relationship with you," Cameron scooted away from John and put her feet on the floor, "It is pointless to argue, John. My mind will not be changed."

"But, Cameron!" John frantically shuffled his feet off the bed, "Come on! What is it? What is it about me that makes you not want to be with me?"

Narrowing her brow and squaring herself as if to prepare for a fight, Cameron stared down John, "You seriously want to know why?"

"Yes!"

"Because you are well on your way to becoming what you fear turning into. I am failing my second primary mission. You say you love me, but you care for nothing but yourself."

"Cameron," John fought back tears of frustration, "how can you say that? I love you, and you know that!"

"You did not say a word in my defense this afternoon when I was accused of treason, and then you came out only lamenting your lack of freedom, not caring at all about how I had been humiliated by your mother and uncle yet again. If you loved me, you would have not stood for that," she folded her arms, "I do not know if I will ever cry, but I can be hurt emotionally. The fact that you did not even consider that shows you have no respect for me, and you have done it multiple times, and that hurts," she exhaled and ran her fingers through her hair, shaking her head sadly. John was about to respond, but she cut him off, "I don't ask much from you, John. In fact, I don't believe I ask _anything_ of you; not even gratitude. But I do wish you would give me some. But you give me neither gratitude nor respect."

"I respect you! I don't even see you as a terminator anymore!" John argued. He listened to the door, hoping they did not wake his mother. However, both of them were being careful not to speak too loudly, and so it seemed that for the time being, they had not disturbed her.

"You're lying," Cameron then imitated John's voice, "'She doesn't have a soul and she never will!' 'I'm a cold, heartless leader who doesn't give a damn about anything but the mission. Isn't that like your dream man?' 'Don't give me any of that terminator crap…' Those are your words. You are unapologetic for what you said. Do not try and apologize to me now, because it will be empty. If you truly were regretful, you would have realized what you said before."

"So I said some stupid things. Haven't I done a lot of other things for you?"

"Yes, but that does not negate this. It is about your character, John Connor. I may just be a terminator, but I can judge character. You expect to always get what you want and you either complain when you don't or take it if it's been denied. That is why you become sexually deviant. You believe you want to be with me because you love me, but I believe it is because of the lust you talked about."

"That's not true, Cameron!" John was almost shouting, walking around to her side of the bed, "I said dumb things I didn't mean, but that doesn't mean I don't love you! And I don't lust after you. I haven't thought about sleeping with you, and I don't want to date you for sex!"

"You're lying," Cameron moved toward the corner defensively, "I saw the way you were looking at Azadah's breasts today. You _do_ have a lustful tendency. I do not want to date a man like that."

"I was not 'looking' at her lustfully today. It was noticeable the way she was dressed. It caught me off guard, that's all. Besides, have I lusted before? Yes, every man has and it's not right, but I do respect women."

"You don't respect me."

"And Brad does respect you?"

Cameron glared at him. John wondered if he had stepped over the line, but he was in unfamiliar territory anyway.

"I never said I was going to start a romantic relationship with Brad Swanson," she said coolly.

"So you're not?"

"I did not say that either. My relationships are none of your concern. But yes, he respects me."

"No he doesn't!" John threw up his hands, "do you know how many girls he's gotten into bed? A lot! He brags about sex and treats women like dirt. You wanna talk about lust, he could write a book on it!"

"I am an independent unit, John Connor!" Cameron said, a growing anger in her voice, "I am able to make my own decisions. We will not be together, and I believe it would be easier for both of us if you just accept that."

"Please, Cameron!" the last of John's dignity melting away, "can you just give me a chance?"

"No!" she snapped, "this conversation has ended. I am your bodyguard and not your girlfriend. Please leave my room now."

"But…"

"Now, John."

Defeated, he turned around and opened her door. Slowly, he turned back around, "Can we discuss this later?"

"No, there is nothing more to discuss. My answer is no. I will not be your girlfriend. I'm sorry if I disappoint you, but that is my answer."

John nodded and closed her door, walking back to his room feeling like he had just been punched in the stomach repeatedly. Not only had he been rejected, but he lost all his dignity and made Cameron angry with him. Now, it would be awkward every moment he was around her. He did not know how to feel. Hurt, rejection, sadness, frustration, anger at himself, anger at her, anger at his future self…all he knew was that he felt like complete shit.

The love of his life was just down the hall, and she would probably not even talk to him now. He went to sleep that night after hours of tossing and turning, feeling too hurt to even fantasize and plan what to do next.


	16. Without a Guardian

Without a Guardian

Without a Guardian

The next few days were among the most agonizing John Connor had ever felt. Once again, he was without a friend. He could barely eat he was so distraught, he was constantly tossing and turning at night, and he had no one he could talk to about his problems. Cameron seemed her usual oblivious at first, but it soon became obvious to John that she was truly angry with him…for asking her out? She actually seemed to feel awkward around him, avoiding him beyond what was absolutely necessary. At school, the closest she ever allowed herself to get to him was on arrival and departure. John would attempt to make conversation about _anything_ but them, but she just did not want to talk. If she said more than five words to him, that was a breakthrough, and she never, _never_ smiled or gave any of the warm looks she had developed to John. They all seemed to go to Brad, who she was hanging out with more and more. The pretty, yet awkward Cameron Baum was now popular among the jocks and it was only a matter of time before Brad made a move, which John was extremely worried Cameron would accept, if not just to spite John. The thought made him sick.

About a week and a half had passed since the rejection, and John's hurt was growing into frustration, annoyance, and fatigue.

"I'm not going to school, Mom," John groaned Thursday morning, "I don't need to stay off the radar anymore and I feel like crap."

"I am not your mother," Cameron said coldly, "Get out of bed right now, John Connor. I will not allow your self-pity and depression to be used as an excuse for absence."

"Goddamn it!" he grumbled, "Cameron can you…"

"You forfeited the right to ask anything of me beyond my primary mission," she interrupted.

_Well, somebody's already had a bowl of bitch flakes this morning_, John thought. "Can you hand me my shirt? That's all."

She picked up his t-shirt and tossed it to him. "We are already seven point two minutes past the time when we should have left. Grab something quick to eat and we'll go." This was the most Cameron had spoken to him since last Monday, and John could not see how this could be any worse. He was sure of it now; she was just pushing his buttons.

John could barely choke down the Pop Tart on the way to school. The nervousness, anger, and hurt from rejection had taken away his appetite. This state of mind had also made him very susceptible to carsickness. He began to feel dizzy whenever he looked down, and each bite of Pop Tart caused a gag reflex. Not escaping her at all, Cameron reached over and rubbed the back of his neck. A jolt ran down his spine at her warm touch, but before he could say a word…

"Don't get excited, I was checking your vitals. Your body is reacting very badly to this rejection," her usual monotone voice had returned, "This should not be causing as much of a reaction as it is for such a period of time."

"I thought you didn't want to talk about it," John grumbled, looking out the window.

"I specifically stated that we would not discuss any plans or chances of us becoming a romantic couple. I never stated that we would not talk about your reaction to said rejection."

"Look," John struggled and swallowed his last bite of Pop Tart, the gag nearly causing him to vomit, "That is the first time I've ever done anything like that and therefore, the first time of being rejected. Considering that we have been very close for the past…one, two, three…" he counted to himself, "seven months, this wasn't a casual 'just ask, the worst she can do is say no, and if she does move on' type of situation. Okay? What you did…really stung."

"I don't see how my actions possessed any venom, acid, or basic chemicals to cause any sort of stinging sensation…" Cameron's tone was almost mocking…actually, it _was_ mocking.

"You _know_ what I meant," John grumbled.

"How would I know? I'm just a terminator, I don't know about human colloquialisms," she rolled her eyes.

"Stop that. I _know_ you're trying to antagonize me. What happened was bad enough and I still don't feel good. I get it, you think I don't respect you and nothing I say will change that."

"Get over it then," Cameron looked at him icily, "I'm here to protect you from getting killed. Your feelings are not my concern."

"Hey, what is your problem, Tin Bitch?" John finally exploded. He could understand anger and awkwardness, but Cameron was being ridiculous. As soon as the words 'Tin Bitch' left John's mouth, Cameron immediately pulled the car over into the breakdown lane, put it in park, and glared at him. "I thought we were going to be late," John returned the mocking, "Can't get on the radar, now can we?" However, Cameron just kept her steely gaze on him. John was unsure of whether or not she was contemplating killing him. She was more than capable and was only showing faint signs of her terminator-isms, which seemed to fade even more as the days went by.

"I cannot believe you just called me that, John Connor. That's for your mother…or Derek. Also, I'll have you know, I am sticking to my mission because that is my assignment, but under any other circumstances…I don't know if I would want to. Even still, do not try my patience. It has been lessened in recent days."

"For GOD'S SAKE, Cameron, I'm fucking sorry! I'm sorry that I have emotions, and that I might…I dunno, be a little disappointed that I'm not going to be in a relationship with someone I thought I loved. But you know, that's what humans do! Fucking sucks, but that's the way it is!"

"You're being selfish…"

"I'M NOT FUCKING BEING SELFISH!" he shouted, "I'll tell you what you are…"

"What am I?" Cameron's voice began to rise.

"You're a fucking sadistic metal bitch! A soulless piece of scrap who feels the need to pour fucking salt on open wounds because some shit in her wires got crossed! You don't want to date me? Fine, be someone else's mechanical sex toy, but that doesn't concern _me_ anymore. You're a fucking…"

"I understand. Thanking for explaining," Cameron interrupted, biting her bottom lip. She was breathing rather hard and it almost looked like her eyes were beginning to get watery. The emotionless robot she had briefly allowed to return was now gone and replaced once again by the angry teenager, indistinguishable from any human. As her glare bore deeply into John's own, something in her usually semi-dormant brain awoke, and suppressed rage broke out.

"Now," she exhaled, "You know how I feel: To be constantly insulted and disrespected and ignored," Cameron raised her left hand and slapped John across the face. The powerful smack seemed to echo through the car. John raised his hand to his face, which was already turning red from Cameron's hand. While light for a terminator, it was still heavier than most women would deliver. John looked back into her enraged eyes. "Fuck you, John Connor. Fuck. You," she hissed. Without another word, she turned and began to drive again. John, while surprised at her profane outburst, was also headstrong and would not let this go.

"You're no saint either, Miss Phillips," he growled, but Cameron cut him off.

"One more word, and you are walking to school," she snapped.

* * *

"Hi, Cameron!" Cheri greeted the straight-faced though obviously irate terminator after lunch.

"Hello, Cheri," Cameron forced a shockingly genuine-looking smile to the blonde girl.

"Is John okay? He was really out of it in lab," Cheri asked, concerned.

Cameron's smile quickly faded, "Don't worry about John. He's too busy worrying about himself," she replied in a bone-chilling voice.

"Oh," Cheri backed up a bit, "Are you two fighting over something?"

"He has a lot to learn about respecting and appreciating people, especially women, and I'm through with helping him on it. He's hopeless," Cameron walked past her.

"What did he do?"

"It does not concern you," she whipped around to see Cheri's disapproving look. Cameron quickly concluded that it was due to her rude, though accurate response, "I mean, it's a personal matter. I don't mean to be rude, Cheri, but…"

"I'm going to the prom with him. If there is something I should know about how he treats women, it _does_ concern me," Cheri replied sternly.

"He will not abuse you, humiliate you, or take advantage of you in any way. My worry is that he is very ungrateful and selfish and that is what leads him to…I mean, may lead him to being uncaring toward all his friends in the future. As for you, it will not be a matter that will do any sort of damage to you," she shrugged, "Perhaps you will cure him of this problem, because I've given up."

"Hey, Cam!" Brad came down the hallway from his class and wrapped Cameron up in a hug from behind. Cheri was uncomfortable to see that he grabbed Cameron just below her breasts and somewhat discretely moved his hands up. Cameron, though, was somewhat oblivious as she smiled.

"Hey, Brad, what's up?" she replied, turning around as the handsome athlete released her.

"Nothin'. What were you two talking about?" he flexed a little bit and leaned against a locker, "Me?"

"No, she's having problems with her brother," Cheri said, a little exasperated.

"What's going on, Cam? You got something you wanna talk about?" he pressed.

"He's just…unappreciative of me….and everyone. People really work hard for him, but all he does is complain. Then, he insults me and expects me not to be angry!" Cameron threw up her hands like she had seen so many others do.

"Damn, you've had a rough week, huh?" Brad's voice seemed to just ooze with artificial sympathy, "Guys just…don't realize what a gem girls like you are, not even their brothers. Well," he paused as if to think, "if you're ever angry at him and you need somewhere to go, I'm always available."

Cameron smiled, "Thank you, Brad. You're…" she paused, her face twisting as John left the lunchroom. John was obviously not expecting her to be there and he froze. Leaving his "cool" leaning against the locker, Brad stood up and flexed in his Abercrombie t-shirt. John rolled his eyes and moved on without saying a word.

"Hey, Baum!" Brad stalked after him as the hallway suddenly quieted down. One of the school's alpha males was speaking and so the pack had to listen. John, however, kept walking, doing his best to ignore him. "Baum, I'm talkin' to you, punk!" Brad snarled. He glanced back to see what Cameron was thinking of him. She offered a smile that Brad took to mean that she approved of his actions, though he had no idea that she was most likely calculating the situation and would not hesitate to immediately terminate her potential suitor should she deem him a mortal threat to John.

"What is it, Swanson?" John said, obviously not intimidated. Brad outweighed him by about twenty pounds and, pound for pound, was probably stronger than John, but he did not have a lifetime of hand-to-hand combat training and, both John and Cameron knew, would be very little match for John.

"You being a dick to your sister, huh?" Swenson stared down at him like a drill sergeant.

"Why don't you keep your nose out of things that don't concern you?" John turned around and started to walk away, causing gasps from the crowd.

"Hey, things that concern her…concern _me_!" Brad slapped his hand down on John's shoulder and spun him around. John stared directly into the face of the coolly angry quarterback/ladies man. John could see in his eyes that Brad's artificial anger that he was using to impress Cameron was becoming real now that John refused to cower, making him look foolish. John was still not worried about himself. He would take Brad if things came to blows, and on the off chance that he found himself in danger of a beat down, Cameron would probably snap Brad's neck…or so he thought.

Cameron, who usually began to move forward when John was in danger, met John's eyes and shot an apathetic look, folded her arms, and leaned against the locker.

"Hey, when I speak, you listen, dickhead!" Brad poked his finger at John's nose, "I swear, if you so much _breathe_ wrong around her, you're going to be in such a world of hurt…don't you DARE roll your eyes at me, shit-for-brains!" he shoved John back for his insolence. John easily caught his balance and shot another glance to Cameron. To John's absolute shock, she turned her back. While he was hurt by the gesture, he was also relieved as this lessened the chance that this conflict would end in death. Then, the warning bell for the start of class rang. Everyone who was not in the lunch block filed out of class, stopping to glance at the showdown.

"Just watch yourself, Baum," Brad growled before turning around and heading back to Cameron. Cameron had turned back around and was smiling at Brad.

"Thank you, Brad," she said, "at least _some_ people are genuine and respectful."

"You probably saw the way he was looking at me. He knows I'm gonna mess him up if he makes you cry. Don't worry, he's not going to bother you anymore."

_You lying asshole son of a fuck!_ John raged in his mind at Brad, _and Cameron, you naïve…_

"You wanna go do something after school? Go get coffee or something?" Brad asked Cameron, interrupting John's internal slandering.

"Um…" Cameron looked over at John, then back at Brad, "Sure."

"Great! Meet me out front after class."

As soon as Brad was out of sight, John confronted Cameron, "Just what the hell was that all about? And what do you think your doing? You're supposed to be guarding me!"

"I'm going to be late for class," Cameron attempted to brush him off.

"No you don't! Answer my question first," John growled.

"You were more than capable of handling yourself. He would not have put you in any mortal danger," Cameron rolled her eyes.

"I _know_ that. I mean this little rendezvous after school. You're supposed to be guarding me."

"I don't want to be near you today, John. Just go home after school. The chances of a random encounter with Cromartie are…" she paused, "well, they are not very high at all. I'm going to go out with Brad…"

"But…"

"I'm not going to discuss this. I'm going to class and I suggest you do the same," Cameron whipped around, her hair hitting John in the face as she did. He waited until she was in the room and seated before he entered.

* * *

John, once again, did not really listen much in his history class. They were in the process of learning about the causes of World War II, so forth and so on, and John knew he probably _should_ be listening, as he would not have Cameron to fill in the blanks for him, but he had too much on his mind. What did he feel about Cameron now? He glanced over at her, wondering, did he ever _truly_ love her, or did he just think he did, like she claimed? Was this part of some scheme to kill him? Had she gone rogue? Did she like him before, but not like _that_, and was simply angry that he wanted more? But, he had to keep reminding himself that he was not dealing with a normal human being.

_Fine, if this is what she wants, we're not friends, we're just…comrades-in-arms I guess. We'll fight together and support each other, but that doesn't mean we have to love, or even like each other._ He thought bitterly, _But…she's going to go to the prom with that fucking waste of oxygen Brad Swanson, and he's going to take advantage of how naïve she is. He'll take her to a party, they'll get close, end up in a room together and…Damn it, I can't think about it!_ He pushed the thought of Cameron giving her virginity to Brad out of his mind, though not because he was envious and wishing it was _him_, but…how could someone be so manipulative to someone so giving and innocent? Brad had probably bedded another girl over the weekend and would certainly get a lot more before the prom. He'd have Cameron after the prom and, considering the attention he was giving her around school, he intended to date her…but there was no doubt that he would cheat on her repeatedly. _Damn it! Cameron, I can't let him do this to you! But you won't talk to me, you're being thickskulled. What the hell am I supposed to do?_

"Mr. Baum? Would you care to tell us what the name of Hitler's henchmen prior to his takeover of Germany?" the teacher had obviously caught John spacing out. Luckily, John _did_ know this answer.

"That would be the Stormtroopers, sir," he replied.

"Oh come on," Carlo, a somewhat dimwitted boy, groaned, "You got that from Star Wars."

The class laughed at John's supposed stupidity, but John just smiled, "Uh, genius, do you think that maybe George Lucas got the name from _these_ Stormtroopers?"

"Why would he want to name something after Hitler?" Carlo countered.

"Okay, we're getting off topic here," the teacher interrupted, "Mr. Baum, you are correct. Now, moving on…"

The rest of class continued uneventfully. Finally, the bell rang and the class filed out. John was feeling slightly better now. He thought he may have the answer.

"Hey, Cam."

She turned around and looked at him blankly.

"Just go home, John," she said, handing him the keys to the truck. Just then, Brad passed by and offered Cameron his arm, which she took.

"Cameron, can we please just talk first? Give me like ten minutes. We have a lot of stuff to sort out…sis," John begged.

"I don't see anything else that we need to discuss. Now go home and stay safe," she replied as Brad virtually dragged her out the door.

Gritting his teeth with frustration, John lumbered out of the class and headed to the truck.

"John?"

He rolled his eyes at yet another interruption…this time from Cheri. Cheri was nice and was still his friend; she had opened up considerably since they planned on going to the prom together, so he would not risk abandoning her friendship too…unless Cameron already badmouthed him to her.

"John, wait a moment," she repeated she caught up to him.

"What's up?"

"I so what happened earlier with Brad Swanson, and I talked to your sister. I guess he really wants to date her," Cheri shrugged, her loose pink blouse falling off her shoulder a bit. She replaced it and looked at John, "How are you with that?"

"He only said that stuff because Cameron and I are in a bit of an argument…actually, it's more like a feud. He wants to impress her and probably to get her into bed on prom night," John shuddered at the thought, "so he wanted to play the part of chivalrous knight."

Cheri nodded, "Look, I don't need to know what's going on, but I'm pretty sure that she is not the type to crawl into bed with someone on the first date. And whatever you did, or she thinks you did, I dunno if I believe her. You seem to be handling it a lot better than her. So, if you were worried that she said not to go to the prom with you or anything, I still want to go. But," she put her finger up, "that's all. If you want to show me that you're not what she thinks you are, then you will understand that."

"Cheri," John was a little irritated at what she was insinuating, "I never, _never_, planned to try and get you into bed after the prom. Don't let her little speech about me not respecting people get to you. I wanted to go the prom with you because…well, you seem nice and since we're both transfers here, we have something in common. We'll have fun, right?"

Her blue eyes lit up and a kind smile crawled over her lips, "Yes, we will," she paused for a moment, "Perhaps you aren't who I thought you were."

"Excuse me?"

"Have a good afternoon, John," she said as she left.

While John did feel a bit better knowing that Cheri had a positive view of him, he still could not stand by and let this thing with Cameron fester the way it was.


	17. John's Advocate

John's Advocate

John's Advocate

For once, John did not have to worry for his life at all about where he was going. He was headed back to the safehouse. While Sarah was understandably nervous after last week's random encounter, John's shotgun was underneath the seats and he had just stuffed his brand new (given a week earlier by his mother for late birthday) .357 Sig Smith&Wesson M&P pistol into his waistband. However, it was, as Cameron said, a very small chance that he would actually be ambushed, and he would probably be okay without it. Nonetheless, it would not hurt to be prepared.

While his mind was whirling with various thoughts and worries about Cameron, he was still completely aware of his surroundings. If nothing, his mother did teach him well: _No one is ever safe._ Anyone could be a terminator, although the really realistic ones were either dead or fighting for the Resistance, and the T-888s were pretty easy to spot…and the T-800s were impossible to miss! However, the John and the pickup made it to the safehouse without incident.

"Hey there, John," Jenna Freeman greeted cheerfully from the "living room" which was just a piece of carpet, a TV (with stolen cable), and some old couches.

John smiled at the cute, perky blonde girl. "Hi."

"Azadah's in the shower right now but I just heard the water turn off. She should be out soon. Have a seat," she patted the cushion next to her. John obliged.

"What are you watching?"

"Eh…daytime TV. I spent a bunch of time hacking into the chip, haven't found anything yet," Jenna said.

"Did you find the guy you're supposed to guard?" John pressed.

"Yeah, he's out of the hospital without incident and just like we expected: Exactly like his old self according to your friend James Ellison but able to pull apart a human with his bare hands. That's just one more for the task force."

"Task force?" John was curious.

"We hope when we have enough Spartans and reformed terminators, we can begin regular paramilitary offensives against Skynet here and completely scorch the earth of its presence," Jenna explained, sounding a little excited.

"Alright, well…"

"You'll be the first to know when we do, don't worry," she laughed.

"Good."

John turned as he heard the door behind him open. Azadah emerged, wearing a blue San Diego Chargers shirt and shorts which, John was glad, did not highlight her shapely figure too much. He was a bit gunshy after Cameron's accusation that he had been lusting after her (which he had…a little bit).

"Hey, John," she greeted, "Sorry about that. I had to jump in the shower after my run."

"I thought you were enhanced? Why do you need to work out?" John asked innocently.

"Oh, I've still got everything real except a lot of a replaced muscle tissue and bones. Gotta still exercise my heart and lungs and make sure my remaining muscles stay…you get it," she summarized then smiled, "the cool thing is, a five minute mile is now a 'jog.' I should join the Olympics if they'd let me."

John laughed, "Yeah, but I think it would require a _lot_ of explaining though."

Azadah returned the laugh, then got down to business, "So, you said you needed to talk to me about something regarding Cameron, right?"

"Uh, yeah…" John was a little nervous about shooing Jenna out, but she seemed to understand.

"I'm going to go get some exercise in as well," she jumped off the couch and walked toward the office/bedrooms to change.

"She's really nice," John commented.

Azadah nodded, "Yeah, Jenna's a sweetie. You don't find too many with her attitude after Judgment Day. So," she sat down on one of the couches perpendicular to John's, "I _did_ notice that Cameron was different…a _lot_ different than when I knew her in the future. I'm guessing this has something to do with that?"

"Yeah, I…well," John looked at his feet and tried to force a smile but failed. Suddenly, he felt a wave of emotion come over him. _She doesn't have a soul and never will! You're a freak! You're a soulless piece of scrap...God, John, can you think of anything more awful to say to someone who is putting her neck out there for your life? She was right about you!_ The frustration and anger he had felt toward Cameron's stubbornness was now turning into hurt and loneliness, and the trip here seemed worthless. No way would Azadah hear him out; he'd have to figure this out on his own. _It really _is_ my fault. I _am_ a real selfish piece of shit who doesn't even to deserve to have a protector. Fuck me!_ "I uh…I think I actually better go. I created this mess and I deserve everything she's giving me," he said slowly, standing up, still hanging his head, "I shouldn't have an advocate. I really do deserve to be alone."

"Wait a sec," Azadah reached for his arm, "What's wrong? What kind of talk is that?"

"It's reality finally setting in," John said, trying not to cry, "Cameron said I need to just get over it and stop being so selfish."

"Cameron said _what?_" this was certainly not the terminator that Azadah knew! That was _very_ human. Terminators, verbally, were cruel for their blunt, tactless, insensitive answers, but not…that!

"Look. I screwed up with her and I don't know why I came here. You're her best friend and really, I've been rubbed raw the past week and a half and if I told you about it, that would be just another person who's pissed at me or doesn't trust me."

"John," Azadah's eyes remained caring, but her face was serious, "sit down now. I promise, cross my heart, that unless you recently did something absolutely, unmentionably horrible, I will not be angry with you," she smiled kindly, "I want to help. Whatever it is sounds serious, both from the mission standpoint and your relationship."

John reluctantly sat back on the couch.

"Now, let me explain something: Cameron and I _are_ best friends. In fact, I cried for almost two days when I found out Connor—future you—sent her back. I thought I'd never see her again. She was like a little sister to me; I really never did see her as a terminator and…" she smiled again, sadly this time, "I watched her grow so much.

"She's very curious and her mimicry of human emotions is not really as…well, I think in many cases, it's not mimicry at all. Her emotions are real, and they really do affect everyone around her."

John nodded, "Yeah, especially over the past two weeks. Ever since the car bomb."

"Car bomb?" Azadah turned a little pale.

"Yeah, she had a close call. She was almost completely disabled and, well, actually, I hate to say this, but against my pleas, we almost burned her up because we didn't think we could repair her."

"Oh my," the thought that Cameron almost died before she could even see her again tore Azadah up.

"Yeah, I," John paused, "I never felt worse in my life. Mom had a change of heart at the last minute and went out, and when she came back she came with a T-800 that I apparently sent back to…"

"Schwartz," she interrupted, "so, he fixed her up."

"Yeah, but ever since then, she's been…very different, and very, very human."

"How so?"

"Well, she eats at _least_ once a day, but usually all three meals. She sleeps now—something to do with how the bomb hit her power source—and she's really independent. I…I really like it most…no, all of it. She's still Cameron, but normal."

"I see. And something about this caused a problem that you feel guilty for," Azadah leaned on an armrest, her chin in her hand.

"Yeah, I…well," he blushed and grinned bashfully, "I don't know how to say this?"

"What?" she smiled teasingly.

"She was watching The Wedding Singer about a week and a half ago, and she started asking me about love, and all the different kinds of love, and about kissing, and what types of kisses go with what types of love, and at what time in a relationship you should _make_ love and for what reasons, and so forth and, well, she kissed me."

Azadah's smile grew wider and her eyebrows raised, "Did she? Where? How long? Did you two…you know, do _it_, if you don't mind me asking?"

"No, no," John shook his head, "it was just a quick one on the lips…I wasn't even ready for it. Then later on the cheek. This was just kinda a kick start to all the stuff I started thinking like…well, she was awkward, caused me a lot of problems, freaked people out, was more likely to shoot someone than talk to them but…well, I wouldn't have anyone else. I mean I realized I was…am," he looked her straight in the eye, "in love with her."

"Wow!" Azadah continued to smile and shake her head, "I…I should have known. She's pretty, she's a good learner, she…well it makes sense…and you're ashamed because of it? I know your mom and uncle probably said…"

"No!" John waved off the idea, "I'm not at all ashamed. I proudly say that I love her…that is, not at school since we're supposed to be brother and sister…and I might wait a bit with Mom and Derek…"

"Okay," Azadah interrupted, "So obviously, that's not the problem, but there's still something that you want me to help you with…now what is that?"

Letting his head drop and shake a little, John bit his tongue as he tried to plan how he would answer.

"John" she assured him, "No matter what you say, I won't condemn you. I'm here for you and I won't go anywhere."

He looked up, took in a deep breath, and replied, "With all of the horrible shit I've said to her, and the fact that I've acted like a spoiled brat and a complete tool bag, she…knows I don't deserve her. I asked her to be my girlfriend—this was the first time I've ever done that with anyone—and she turned me down. Then I started trying to ask her why and stuff, and she said she didn't need a reason to not date me other than not wanting to. I kept nagging her—because I'm an idiot—and she got pissed and said that I was selfish, thoughtless, and already that asshole in the future that it turns out that I am. I mean, it was bad enough having the girl I love tell me she doesn't feel the same way but…damn, I'd rather a terminator take me out now before I turn into that and let the world get itself another savior."

Azadah nodded sympathetically, "I know. I know you sincerely never want to become that. You're just not made for that."

"But if it's who I will be, it's who I am; maybe I don't know it yet but…damn it, I dunno. Maybe I should just write a suicide note and blow my brains out…make it easier for Skynet and make Cameron happy."

"No!" Azadah's features suddenly turned annoyed, "Don't _ever_ say that about yourself! And don't _ever_ think that about Cameron, no matter what you've done or what she's done.

"Now listen, I'm going to be blunt with you, but let me finish before you get upset, okay?"

"Okay."

She shook her head, "This is really tough for me," then, letting out a sigh, "But here it goes. Everyone in the future knows about your exploits and yes, if not for your skills as a commander, you wouldn't have any respect from anyone after many of the things you've done. I saw your future self eying me a few times, my childhood best friend was one of your conquests…just before you sent her back into action where she was killed and, well, after I thought I lost Cameron, I was contemplating a coup; I had had enough of you. Like you said, I felt that the world should get itself a new savior. Then you ordered me back in time and I had no idea what to expect when I met the younger version of the man I hated so much.

"But you know what?" she put her finger under John's chin and lifted his head to look into his eyes, "You are…less than one percent of that. You are not the same man at all. I frankly have no idea how you—an honest and caring young man with good intentions for his mother, uncle, the girl he loves, and humanity in general—becomes that. But I will say this, my thought is that it partially comes from your militant upbringing, and partially being told constantly that you are the Second Coming of Christ and can do no wrong. But you never thought you were until you're forced to become what people believe you are supposed to be. Then, you start to believe it yourself and suddenly, you think you can do no wrong.

"But now you know the truth, and you can change it; you can become something better," she shrugged, "that is, unless we're able to keep you from having to step into that role in the first place. Does that make sense?"

John nodded, "Yeah, it makes a lot of sense. I never want to be that. I just wish…Cameron would see that. I apparently sent her back here to help me not become that as well as protecting me. But she thinks she's failing, and for good reason. I mean, when I get mad, I've said some really stupid shit. Everyone does from time to time, I know, but…well, I really needed to be more aware that I was dealing with the developing, naïve mind.

"I know I blew it and it's probably too late, but I just want to talk to her and say I'm sorry…and she won't even listen to me. Jeez, a regular girl is tough enough to deal with—no offense, Azadah—but I'm dealing with a terminator here…"

She shook her head, "No, I don't think so. It really doesn't sound like, aside from her construction, that Cameron is much of a terminator anymore. You say she's emotional now, and she probably just doesn't know how to control these emotions, and she doesn't know how to deal with what she feels is betrayal and hypocrisy. She's had her entire existence run by calculations; like the Turk, if I do this, this will happen, so I will do this…now she's dealing with a fight between that and these irrationalities.

"You're obviously sincerely sorry about what you've said, and I won't ask you to go into any more detail, so the ball is in her court.

"Unfortunately," Azadah leaned back, "I can't help you in dealing with a terminator who's pissed off at you."

John's face dropped until he saw Azadah smile again.

"But, I can have a coffee talk with my best friend. I don't care how much she's changed, I know her well enough to be sure that she will listen to me."

John was overwhelmed in an instant, "I…I don't know what to say…"

"Don't worry about it. I want what's best for both of you."

"I owe you big time…even if it doesn't work."

"You want to repay me? Tell that uncle of yours he owes me an expensive dinner for nearly blowing my head off," she give him a sly look.

"Um…okay," John stood up. Azadah joined him.

"Good luck," she put her arms around him.

"Thanks, Azadah. I really appreciate this," he replied, returning her hug. He released the beautiful Iranian girl and walked back toward the pickup.

"I want to really show her that I mean every word of my apology and my feelings about her. How do you think I should tell her?" he asked, turning back around.

Azadah shrugged, "Why not write her a letter? Works for human girls a lot of times"

"True…actually…yeah, I told her about writing letters to express…that would work! Thanks again!"

"Oh, and John?" she added as he turned toward the truck.

"Yeah?"

"Remember who you're dealing with. I know you have a stubborn personality, but you have to be the bigger one. Be understanding no matter what, and don't stop loving her," she winked, "I'll take care of the rest. And don't forget…Derek."

"Got it."


	18. Coffee Talk

Coffee Talk

Coffee Talk

_Westside LA_

_1622 Hours_

While there was nothing that _really_ stood out about Cromartie, he nonetheless attracted attention with his grim, dead eyes and rough demeanor. Dressed in a suit and tie with Ran Ban sunglasses, he fit into the internet café in the affluent section of LA well. Nobody thought of him as anything more than a guy with a chip on his shoulder…and that was common enough. Had they looked over his shoulder, they would have only seen a long list of names on his computer screen and some current events research. They would never have guessed his intentions for murder yet again.

The first terminator ever sent through time, a T-800, knew the basic area of Los Angeles in which Sarah Connor lived; it only had a handful of Sarah Connors to deal with. After terminating two of them, it finally found the one it was looking for…only to be foiled by Kyle Reese. Nonetheless, it had taken just under twenty-four hours from arrival in 1984 till it made contact. Now, both Sarah and John were ready for attacks and had assumed various identities. Between the names of Reese, Connor, and possibly Baum, there were nearly a thousand possible matches. There was so far only one possible match ruled out…however, he was a terminator, and he would do the search in about a quarter of the time.

After fifteen minutes of searching, Cromartie had narrowed down his search to six Sarah Reeses as they all had sixteen-year-old sons named John. There were also two Baums, both families had a mother named Sarah, a son named John, and both had daughters of high school age, but one had already been ruled out two weeks earlier when he visited his school and came up with a negative ID.

"Hey, man," a teenage Latino kid tapped the terminator on the shoulder, "Can I get in here? We're having a LAN party in like ten minutes."

Cromartie ignored him.

"Hey, dude, you gonna be done soon?" silence, "Come on, don't be like that…John Baum?"

The terminator turned at hearing the name.

"Man, what's going on? He in some kind of trouble or something?"

"Do you know John Baum?" Cromartie asked.

"Yeah, he's a friend of mine. I was gonna go to the prom with his sister till I got busted for smoking weed at school."

"What is your name?"

"Morris Ordoñez," Morris said, getting a little frightened. Did he just unwittingly rat John out for something? Man, if he did, there was _no way_ Cameron would want to get with him.

"What school do you go to?" Cromartie continued.

"Uh…" Morris stalled.

"I will repeat the question, what school do you go to?"

"North Hollywood High School," Morris lied.

"Thank you for your cooperation," Cromartie left immediately, leaving Morris puzzled and very worried.

"Hello," John greeted Cameron as she sat in the living room reading.

"You were supposed to come straight home," Cameron replied sternly, "You were in great danger without me."

"I went to the safehouse to talk with those guys," John kept his cool. Cameron was amazing. She did not let up one bit for one instant in her angry grudge.

"I instructed you to come home, not to go to the safehouse."

"Mom signed off on it, it's not a big deal. Remember last week when she started freaking out as us about going to get ice cream?"

"She was 'freaking out' at _me_; not you," Cameron scowled.

"Whatever, this is the same deal."

"I am in charge of your protection and I told you what I believed best. You deliberately defied me."

"Defied?" he could not believe his ears, "How can I 'defy' you? I'm not under your command! I can do whatever I damn well want to!"

"You have a responsibility, John Connor!" She shot up out of her seat.

"And you don't?" he yelled back, "You're flirting around with Mr. Pretty Boy Quarterback Man Whore so I gotta come home and sit on my ass? You want to talk about responsibility…"

"I don't want to talk about anything with you," she held up her hand and looked away.

"Fine…" then Azadah's words came to his head: _Be the bigger one. Remember who you're dealing with and don't stop loving her,_ "Okay. I'm sorry."

"You should be."

That last remark irritated the hell out of John, but he just gritted his teeth and let it go. _She's breaking me,_ John thought as he slammed the door to his room. The slight feeling of reprieve he had gotten from visiting Azadah was gone now thanks to Cameron's harsh words. John thought about it and, after all this, he still did love her, but was she worth all this grief? Perhaps they should just keep theirs a "working relationship." He would have Azadah talk to her, but Cameron was just too stubborn to actually do a 180 back to the way things were before. Sadly, John felt the best he could hope for was a slight break in the tension.

_I said it before and I'm keeping to it…if she wants to be Brad's sex bot, that's her problem. And when he cheats on her or does the quick in and out thing I'll be…damn it._ No way, he wouldn't abandon her like that just for spite. He wasn't that man. Yes, he was angry, but he was angry at himself. He had just spilled out everything to Azadah…why was he all of a sudden turning around and railing against Cameron? He needed to take what was coming to him. Sure, Cameron was being a little overly harsh, but she didn't know any better.

Was he jealous that Brad had her and he didn't? Sure, but as he sat and thought, he realized that his biggest problem was that he missed her. He missed the awkward conversations, her spontaneous and random interests, her catch phrases like "thank you for explaining," and her newer one, "it tastes good." He missed everything. He _needed_ her…but he blew it. The only thing he could do was tell her all this in a letter. Getting up from his bed, he grabbed piece of paper and pen, all the while planning on what he wanted to say.

Two hours and three drafts later, he was done. Now, the question was how and when he would give it to her.

* * *

_Three Days Later_

_1315 Hours_

Sarah Baum was not expecting any guests, so why was there a black Buick in her driveway? It looked pretty official and the guy getting out, a muscular, grim faced man in a black suit and sunglasses, looked like he was from the government.

_Did the kids do something? Are there terrorists in the area or something like that?_ She wondered.

"Are you Sarah Baum?" the man asked as he walked toward her menacingly.

"Uh, yes. Why?" she instinctively backed up.

"Do you have a son named John?"

"Yes. Why? Did he do something?"

"Can I speak with him?" Cromartie said.

"Uh, yes. May I ask what this is about?" Sarah was getting _very_ nervous. John was smart and pretty well behaved…so she thought.

"I need to ask him a question regarding a crime committed at his school," Cromartie lied.

"Did he…have something to do with it?"

"No, but we believe he might be a witness."

"Um, okay, to what kind of crime?"

The terminator accessed his files for the best possible answer. Murder and rape would be too dramatic, so, "Theft of a large sum of money from the school."

"Alright then. John!" she yelled into the screen door. A few seconds later, she saw her sixteen year old son come down the stairs. In anticipation, Cromartie reached into his suit and clutched his pistol, ready to terminate.

"What's going on?" John asked as he exited the house.

"John Baum?" Cromartie said as he scanned his target.

"Yeah…whoa!" he was taken aback by the official looking guy, "What's up? Did I do something?"

_Scan: Negative ID. Terminate? Not at this time,_ Cromartie let go of the pistol and brought his hand back to his side.

"Did you witness a theft of five hundred dollars from the principal's office on One March of this year?" the cyborg, while not really "caring" whether or not he raised any eyebrows, did need to play the part of law enforcement agent in order to maintain a somewhat lower profile. Yes, he was a terminator, but there were Resistance Fighters—and very aggressive ones at that—who were trying to track _him_ down and terminate him. His termination would be quite detrimental to Skynet's mission, so he would avoid it for as long as possible.

"No, I don't know anything about it," John shrugged.

"Thank you for your cooperation," Cromartie turned and headed back to his car.

"That was weird," Sarah said, "And at first, I thought he was going to kill us."

* * *

_23 March 2007_

_1415 Hours_

The horn from the unidentified Mazda startled John for a moment as he walked out from school silently with Cameron.

"Hey, Cameron!" Azadah called from the driver seat. Upon seeing the face of her best friend, Cameron began to smile.

"Hello, Azadah," she replied, "What are you doing here? We have transportation of our own."

"I know. I just thought maybe you'd like to go get coffee and I could help you pick out a prom dress…" she trailed off and groaned quietly as some jackass whistled at her. Azadah knew she was attractive and she did like to flaunt it a bit, but damn, some guys…

"Yes. I would like that very much," Cameron, now at the passenger side door, said. She had just opened the door when _he_ arrived.

"Hey, Babe," Brad said quietly, throwing his arm around her, "I thought maybe we could go back to my place and uh…well, my folks aren't home so…" he winked at Cameron, who didn't get it.

"No thank you, Brad."

"Why not? Are you busy?" Brad looked a little irritated.

"Yes, I am going to get coffee and pick out a prom dress with my friend."

"So you can do that any time. My parents are going to be back tonight," he hesitated, "I mean, we don't have to do anything if you don't want to If your not ready, then…"

"Ready? You mean to go to your house?" Cameron smiled.

"Uh…yeah, to…'go to my house.' Whenever your ready," he gave her a sly look.

"I'm not ready. I have things to do," she climbed into the car.

"Would it be your first time?"

"Yes, I've never been to your house before," Cameron was still oblivious to the double entandre, which both amused and alarmed John and just alarmed Azadah, whom Brad had _thought_ did not understand their conversation.

"I'm having a party next Saturday after prom. Do you think you'd be ready to…you know, 'come to my place?'" Brad squeezed her shoulder affectionately.

"Yes, I will come to your house after prom," Cameron replied. Brad's horn dog smile widened.

"I look forward to it, and I don't think you'll ever forget it."

"Ahem," Azadah caused Brad to look up at her from Cameron's body, which was only eight days away, he thought, from being his. This was the first time he had actually taken a good look at the driver and, like most guys, he was awestruck with her beauty.

"Hel-lo!" he said, "I'm Brad Swanson. And who might you be?"

"I'm Azadah," she replied, her voice dripping with distain.

"I was guessing something like that. You have that classic Latina look," Brad said, thinking he was very perceptive.

"I'm Persian actually," Azadah said, thinking he was an idiot, "Azadah means 'free' in Persian. It's not Spanish."

"Oh…so how do you like America compared to France?" Brad was not one to be deterred.

"What?"

"You're from Paris right?"

"I don't know what…oh…no, that's _Persian_ not _Parisian_. Big difference," she shot John a look of horror, "My parents were from Iran…also known as Persia."

"Oh, so did they leave because of the war?"

"No, you're thinking of Iraq. Iran is the next country over from that," she decided to not to explain. It was obvious he wouldn't get it, "it was nice to meet you, Brad," she signaled for John to come closer to the car.

"Same here, Azadah. You can come to the after-prom party too if you want," Brad offered.

"I will be busy next weekend, thank you very much," she replied.

"Okay, if you change your mind though…"

"I won't."

"Okay. See ya, Cam," he kissed her on the cheek, causing her to smile and John to hit a gag reflex. Brad returned the smile as he backed away and then turned around to rejoin his friends.

"You didn't tell me about Douche Bag Genius Boy," Azadah hissed in John's ear.

"Sorry, I forgot," John whispered back, "I guess I didn't want to seem like I was just trying to get you talk her into…"

"Don't worry about it. And don't even think of being envious of that piece of shit," Azadah's whisper became less harsh, "Anyway, I'm going to do anything I can to help you, like I promised, but I'm going to make it my primary mission for the next week to get her out the clutches of…of…_that_," she jabbed her thumb in Brad's direction.

"Go to it."

"Alright," she said, rubbing her eyes under her sunglasses, "I'll see ya, John."

"Hey, Baum!" Brad called over to John after Azadah drove off.

John tensed up as he approached the quarterback, ready for a fight if needed. However, Brad was relaxed and did not seem have any aggression in his face.

"Look, man, about last week…I really don't give a shit what you do with your sister, but they like the hero types, so I figured that's what I'd give her. I didn't mean to scare you, and I'm not planning on whooping your ass or nothin', so you don't have to worry."

"Well," John grinned, "that's very nice of you."

"Hey, I gotta save my energy, dude…I gotta big night next Saturday," he turned up the left side of his mouth and winked.

_Real smart: Admit to a guy that you're planning on fucking his sister. _John could not believe the balls on this kid!

"Put in a few good words for me…ease her into it a bit more if you can, and I'll help you break out of that shell of yours, Baum. If you want, I can help make sure that you bang Cheri Westin," Brad gave him a playful punch in the arm.

"No thanks," John waved it off with a fake smile, "I'm not going to need any kind of help."

"That's what I'm talkin' about, Bro! I like that attitude. Ain't nothin' keepin' that snake in its cage except yourself," Brad nodded at his on-the-fly philosophy, "That's what I always say."

"Alright, I'll keep that in mind," John turned and rolled his eyes, heading over to the truck, _Azadah: work fast and work hard!_ He thought.

* * *

_Starbucks_

_Reseda Galleria_

_Reseda, CA_

"I was at this Starbucks last week with Brad. That was my first date," Cameron commented. Azadah nodded as she looked at the menu.

"What kind of coffee would you like?" she asked.

"The kind we had in twenty twenty-seven," the terminator replied, "Maxwell House Bold. I asked for it last time and the barista gave me a look that I understood to mean that I was insane, joking, or uninformed. She then gave me a regular coffee and rolled her eyes. It tasted differently than Maxwell House Bold. I assumed they were out of it."

"Yeah…that's Starbucks for you," Azadah nodded, "Cameron, they don't serve Folgers or Maxwell House here. Starbucks is their own brand of coffee. Also, they have many different kinds of coffee, cappuccino, latte, and stuff.

"I've never had anything except coffee and a regular latte once. I'm going to try…mmm, caramel macchiato sounds good. I think I'll try that, do you want to one too?"

"Yes, I would like a caramel macchiato," Cameron replied.

When the orders came up, Cameron carried them over to the table, sipping hers along the way, not seeming to mind the heat that would normally singe the mouth of a human being.

"It tastes very good," she smiled as she handed Azadah her cup, "I acquired the ability to taste about three weeks ago and it has been very pleasant."

"How? The car bomb?"

"I believe so."

"Well," Azadah took a sip, "every cloud has a silver lining I guess."

Cameron cocked her head, not understanding the expression.

"That means that even bad situations can have some good things come out of it," Azadah explained.

"Oh, thank you for explaining."

"So, how have you been, Cameron? I haven't had time to sit down and talk with you at all," Azadah smiled and ran her hand through her silky black hair.

"I have had both good and bad things happen since I spoke with you last. The good things are that we have had no contact with enemy units and I have not had to defend John. I also made a new friend named Brad that I think I have a romantic interest in. Since he seems to return my interest, we will probably be a couple soon. The bad things are that we have been unable to locate the Turk or TOK informant, and I am angry with John and I don't know if I want to be his friend anymore."

Though she was expecting this, Azadah feigned surprise, "Why? I thought you two were like best friends. I mean, just by the way I see him look at you."

"He has no respect for me and he is lustful…just like he will be in the future," Cameron's eyes narrowed, "he sent me to prevent him from becoming like that, but he already is. He thinks of nothing but himself."

"Whoa!" Azadah made a 'stop' signal with her hand, "accusing John now of being what he is in the future is pretty extreme, Cameron. Seriously, think about it…"

Cameron paused for a moment, then replied, "Yes, perhaps you are right. That is a very severe accusation. Thank you for pointing that out; he is not like he is in the future, but he is still an unacceptable individual."

"Wow! Those are really strong words," Azadah nodded as if accepting what Cameron said, "'an unacceptable individual.' He must have done some pretty awful things to you."

"Yes."

"What did he do?"

"Many things."

"Will you elaborate?"

"Yes. He said insensitive, ungrateful things to me. He has on numerous occasions called me a freak, he yelled at me for just sitting and trying to make conversation with him once. He also told Sarah and Derek that I have no soul and never will. If he is angry, he might say something like, 'don't give me any of that terminator crap.' And, if I try and comfort him or understand something, he gets angry at me when I make a mistake, and he rarely ever praises when I succeed.

"I risk my existence to protect him, and I have also tried to be his friend, but I am given no respect for either job, and most of the time it seems like he does not want me to do either job. He has no patience with me even when I am trying very hard to learn. I may be just a terminator, but it hurts," Cameron sipped her coffee while Azadah listened to her explain.

"When did he say all this?" she asked.

"Over a period of seven and a half months."

"And," Azadah's lips turned up slyly, "I'm assuming he has never complimented you or said anything positive to you?"

"No, he has said many positive things to me; more than anybody except possibly Brad, Morris, and you," Cameron looked down.

"What has he said?"

"He called me 'Pretty Girl' one time, and he told me that I've learned some social things faster than a human. He stayed with me the night I was afraid of getting incinerated and he told me how much he cared about me. Also, he has stood up for me repeatedly when I have been accused of treason, sabotage, or incompetence…but just two weeks ago on Monday, I was accused of all of that and he did not say a word about it…he just kept complaining about his lack of freedom. That is the type of selfishness that I have come to dislike."

Azadah looked thoughtful for a moment, "Well, everyone…well, has he said anything else? Anything else even more important?"

"Yes," Cameron hesitated, "He said…he told me that he loved me."

"Do you believe him?"

"Yes," she replied quickly, "It would have made things easier if he had lied and not allowed our relationship to progress. Also, I can tell his facial expressions and he showed no signs of lying."

Azadah thought for a moment. She glanced over at a few people coming into the shop; a couple of airhead teenage shoppers and their boyfriends joked around as they jostled their way up to the counter. So far, everything was okay; they always had to be on the lookout for terminators and possibly law enforcement.

"So, then did he ask you to be his girlfriend?" she asked, taking another sip.

"Yes. Two days later. I refused and that was when I started being angry."

"Because he wanted to date you?"

"No, because he refused to stand up for me and comfort me when I was insulted by his mother and uncle four hours earlier, then expected me to have forgotten it, along with many other things he had said and not said, and immediately expect a relationship."

Azadah tried to hide her being awestruck. Cameron was…well, real. These are the reasons a normal girl her (appeared) age would probably give for not dating a guy. This was not some calculation, but a decision made by emotions.

"Also," Cameron added, "He seems to take it for granted that, because of what I am, I am somehow obligated to date him and nobody else."

"And you've told him all this?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Three weeks ago this Monday, and other things were added since then as well," Cameron took a gulp of coffee, which seemed to go down wrong (even for a terminator). She hiccupped a little bit before taking another sip.

"Has he apologized?" Azadah said.

"I have no desire to engage in a conversation with him."

"Cameron!" Azadah chuckled and shook her head, "If you won't talk to him, how will you know if he's sorry or not? He's probably been trying to apologize to you for a long time."

"It doesn't matter. He won't apologize."

"And if he does?"

"It makes no difference," Cameron gave her a firm look, "He can't change what he said; it's already been done."

"Sooo…" Azadah pursed her lips, "I'm to understand that you desire relationships only with people who have never made mistakes?"

"I did not say that. I desire relationships with people who never have and never will do anything to offend, hurt, or embarrass me," Cameron replied pointedly, "Human errors are to be expected, but intentionally hurtful statements do not have to be."

Azadah nodded, "Okay then. Time for another lesson in humanity."

"You gave me many of these in the future," Cameron cocked her head slightly.

"Yes, because I want to help you. Now listen, what you said is true. John can't change the things he said, but you said yourself that he has said and done many more positive things for you. Why are you concentrating on the negatives?"

"It doesn't matter how many positive things he said to me. One negative is enough," Cameron looked down at the table. Azadah was playing with her emotions, but she was not sure how.

"Have you been perfect to him?"

Cameron froze, "What do you mean?"

"Have you said or done anything that hurt, offended, or embarrassed him?"

"This coffee is very good. We should…"

"Cameron, don't change the subject," Azadah said sternly, "You try that every time you have to admit to something you're not proud of. Now, have you ever upset John?"

"I want to talk about the coffee," the terminator attempted once more.

"Cameron Phillips…" Azadah glared with her best "big sister" look.

"Yes. I have…many times made him upset," Cameron bit her lip. She began to look ashamed.

"Why did you upset him?"

"Social ignorance on my part, I have calculated, led to the suicide of a girl at his school. I then prevented him from saving her because I did not want him to draw attention to himself. I have lied to him, used what people call 'bait and switch' with him. I have been rude to him and to Sarah. I let two innocent people be murdered after I promised to protect them, which greatly upset John and Sarah, especially after I referred to their deaths as 'acceptable.' I have also, in anger, recently told John that I was unsure of whether or not he was worth saving," she clenched her fists, "that was really hurtful I'm sure, and I did not mean it at all. It was out of anger, and I still am trying to harness my emotions…but he said something equally hurtful back to me. He called me a 'soulless piece of scrap,' and a 'tin bitch.'"

"People say things they don't mean when their angry. Your inability to control your anger is nothing out of the ordinary, Cameron. It sounds like you both said things that you regret. Yet, here's the difference between you and John," she smiled slyly, "You did not do any of these things to John until after you rejected him, whereas he did these things for the entire time that he knew you."

"That's not true," Cameron looked at Azadah like she was crazy, "I made many of the mistakes I listed from September of 2006 to February of 2007."  
"Ahh…but why does John love you then?"

"Because he finds me attractive, and because we have been through a lot together."

"But you did all those things to him. How could he love that?"

"He…" Cameron stopped and exhaled, "Forgave me."

"And he saw past the negatives," Azadah smiled kindly, "And he said to himself, 'This girl is worth everything, good and bad. I love her no matter what.'"

Cameron was silent as she gulped the last of her coffee.

"I'm obviously not telling what you have to do, Cameron. I just want to give you something to think about."

"Yes, I can forgive John," she replied, "but even if I forgive him, according to a book I read on conflict resolution, sometimes relationships cannot be repaired. That is, I can wish him no ill will, but at the same time, extend no friendship too him."

"Cameron," Azadah put her hand on top of her friend's, "I know you were hurt, but what he said and did…is it so bad that it has to end your friendship?"

Shaking her head, she pinched the bridge of her nose like she had seen Sarah do so many times when she was frustrated or confused. "I don't know, Azadah. I am not well versed in handling emotions and human relations. I will protect him and work to prevent Judgment Day, but as for being his friend…I really am inconclusive.

"Besides, a close relationship with John would hamper a relationship with Brad."

"Um, yeah," Azadah knew that this would be hard, "about that. Honestly, Cameron, I would reconsider dating Brad. He's not…a good…" _shit_, she thought, "He's not right for you. He's too promiscuous."

"I believe you are incorrect," Cameron said, "He has stood up for me, and he has made no indication that he wants to sleep with me, and he has not said anything about having multiple sexual partners."

"Cameron, he was trying to get you…he wanted to have sex with you today! That's what he meant by 'come to my house.' And when you said you would come to his house after prom, you meant it as, 'I will attend your party,' but he thought you were agreeing to have sex with him after the prom."

"I believe you are incorrect," Cameron repeated, "I searched my database, and there is no indication that 'come to my house' is a sexual innuendo. Besides, what if I fall in love with him and decide I want to have sex with him after prom?"

"Cam, you don't just have sex as soon as you fall in love. And you won't be in love with him. You've only known him for two weeks!"

"That's my prerogative, and I don't appreciate that you are questioning my judgment just because I am a terminator," Cameron glared at Azadah, who tried to hide her surprise that Cameron was being so stubborn about something that was not mission related, "did you talk to John before inviting me to come with you?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't I?" Azadah shrugged.

"We're best friends. You're not supposed to talk to people with whom I angry!" Cameron stood up, her eyes suddenly flashing in anger.

"John is my friend too. You and I are best friends, Cameron, but I can't just abandon John. I know that there is a lot of things going on between you two and I just want to help," Azadah remained calm.

"You are treating me as though I am uneducated in human emotions just because I am a…"

"But…you…_are_, Cameron," Azadah's calm demeanor became stern again. She reminded herself, however, that she could not get too defensive with Cameron, "You said yourself that your inability to understand human emotions has led to problems. Now I am being honest with you, and this is not a black and white situation where one side or the other is right or wrong. John has already admitted what he did and said he was sorry to me…"

"You're a traitor!" Cameron raged. Suddenly, the Starbucks quieted down and looked over at the raging, pretty cyborg girl. Ignoring the embarrassing moment, Azadah stood up and looked Cameron in the eye.

"Let's go outside, Cameron. Right now," her steely gaze never left the terminator's.  
As soon as they were outside the Starbucks, Azadah squared herself to Cameron and began her "tough love" routine, which she was hoping not to have to do.

"I _never_ betrayed you," she hissed, "And I never will. How _dare_ you accuse me of that! Tell me, when you were suspected of giving away the South LA outpost, who was it who kept you from being vaporized?"

Cameron looked down in shame, "It was you."

"Who was it who got rid of that crowd three days later when they were taunting you, knowing you wouldn't be able to respond without getting terminated?"

"You."

"Who was it who never got mad, had coffee with you every week whether she was busy or not, and _never_ treated you like a terminator?"

"You."

"Who was it who talked Connor into bringing you on board, spent two hours trying to convince him that you were sincere in your desire to defect, and got major surveillance placed on her because she didn't immediately terminate you like she was ordered?"

"That was you as well," Cameron nodded, still looking at the ground.

"I have forgiving you for everything you've done, and I have _always_ stuck up for you. Don't you ever call me a traitor. I can talk to John, or Derek, or whoever the hell I want! Yes, I will get mad at them and I will chew them out for giving you shit, but I am in no way obligated to give them this holier than thou silent treatment that you are demanding, Cameron!

"You think John has a loose mouth, look at yourself first," Azadah said, her tone cool and angry but not raising much beyond a medium volume, "And know your limitations, Missy. These new emotions of yours are giving you an ego you do not deserve. You have already shunned John, who was the only guy to truly love you, and now your pushing me away too! You really don't have all that many friends to lose, and your not going to make any with the standards you set," she shook her head as she concluded, "You are setting yourself up to be very lonely in this world, Cameron."

Cameron looked as though she was about to cry, which was something no terminator did. However, her brow narrowed and she covered up her expression with a mixture of defiance and anger. "I'm still going to date Brad, no matter what John told you…"

"Oh, God, Cameron!" Azadah's eyes rolled and she threw her hands up, "I do not believe I am hearing this. I…I don't even know where this is coming from. You don't…forget it. I'm done with you," she stalked away, leaving Cameron a bit bewildered, "If you want me, you can find me at the Dress Barn when you decide to uncross your wires!"

A Guido-looking guy with his shirt half unbuttoned and a fake gold chain around his neck began to follow Azadah. "Hey, what's up, girl?"

"Fuck off!" she snarled at him. Now was _not_ the time to try and hit on Azadah Saberi.


	19. Whipping Boy

Whipping Boy

Whipping Boy

"These things are just getting harder and harder to crack," John grumbled as he looked over the diagnostic results of Withers' chip. Jenna had gotten tired and wanted John to take over looking into the chip. This one was much more encoded than Vick's chip, "Now I know why she was complaining."

Just about everything was encoded twice and, after hacking for two straight hours, he had just gotten past the first level of security. John could see how everything was lining up, but now it was time actually translate what it said. C, number sign, dollar sign, etc. probably did not mean that the terminator was thinking of curse words, but it was organized into a list form, meaning that John was certainly making progress.

"What have you got?" Derek said as he walked into John's bedroom holding a Coors Light.

"Getting there," John did not look away from the screen, "Skynet isn't dumb, that's for sure. They have like, a billion lines of code, and I'm just hoping I don't have to go through them one by one, because that will be, needless to say, a major bitch."

"What if this is as far as it goes? What if this is what the metals read?" Derek said pessimistically.

"I've hacked before. Because it learns from its surroundings, it thinks like a human. Everything should be in English and whatever other languages he spoke," John squinted at a familiar line of code. It would look like nothing to the untrained eye, but to the experienced programmer/hacker that John was, it was like reading the line from a great movie…but not remembering which movie it came from. "I've seen this before," he pointed to the screen.

"Zero, nine, two, nine, zero, zero, five, three," Derek shrugged, "I dunno, it's just a bunch of numbers to me."

"Well, you obviously don't know how to read code. I can if I know what sequences create what programs, and I do recognize codes after I've read them. So, I know where this comes from, and it could act as a keyword. The problem is, we need to find the network or computer—which might be another terminator—and find the corresponding code. Once we have that, we're golden."

Derek sat down on John's bed, "so, how do we find this? Can you find out on the chip?"

"Maybe, let me look at some of the unlocked things. Codes like this run back like bloodlines…literally. It probably runs all the way back to Cyberdyne. The network commands don't change much. The thing that I don't understand is how he was even functioning without the second half of the code. He wouldn't be able to read his missions, and his motor skills would have been screwed up too."

"Maybe he did have it and it got wiped out as some sort of safety feature if he should be disabled," Derek suggested.

"That's what I was thinking, because it just didn't make sense to have half the code. This didn't happen with Vick too, so that's why I think you're right. We didn't trash that thing yet, did we?"

Derek nodded, "Yeah, we fried it not long after Tin Can's little out of body experience."

"Shit," John shook his head, "That means we're going to need to find the originator of the code."

"That would be the Turk, wouldn't it?" Sarah said as she entered the room, "Unfortunately, that means we need to go back to tracking down the Turk, then use that to use…"

"Not exactly," John cut her off, "Because most likely, it's a continuation of a code Andy helped write at Cyberdyne, there is probably some programming at Cyberdyne that can give us what we want."

"Umm…John, we blew that place…" Sarah began.

"Up in Ninety-four. It's up and running again, and they'll have this code running through some program on their database. Sooo…" he smiled as his mother.

"Hot op?" Derek asked.

"It would be good to keep a black op if possible," Sarah replied, "That means we have to get in there and…"

"Get _me_ in there," John emphasized, "Not even Cameron would be familiar with what exactly we're looking for since her memory was scrubbed in the future. If I can get in…"

"Whoa! John, if you're involved, it's best you just do it from here," Sarah cautioned.

"I can't. Their firewalls are almost impenetrable to outside attacks, plus, what I _could_ get wouldn't help us at all. I need direct access," A look of unmovable stone was on John's face. He was not trying to be difficult this time, he just knew what needed to be done and there was no way around it.

"Alright, he has a point," Derek agreed, "So what now? We draw up a plan to get him and Tin Can into the building, get what he needs, and…well, I guess we'll have our answers."

"Speaking of Tin Can, where is Cameron?" Sarah looked a little concerned.

"She's getting coffee and picking out a prom dress with Azadah last I heard," John said, "Girl time I guess."

"She's supposed to be guarding you," Sarah replied, a mixture of frustration and ice in her voice.

"I'm fine here, Mom. Don't worry, she's still on her mission just…on leave I guess."

"Well, leave's over," Sarah picked up the phone and dialed the pretty terminator's number.

* * *

Cameron stood at the railing looking down the escalator for at least ten minutes. Emotions were all new to her. She did not really know what to feel about what; everything seemed…random. Was this the way it was with humans? Or did she have some problem with her programming? She had done a lot of thinking and she had gone from anger to shame as the reality of Azadah's words set in.

She came from a world where nothing matter except what one was programmed to do. Emotions were not a programmed thing, either to a human or a cyborg. They just happened. She felt hurt by all that John had done. She felt attracted to tall, muscular, confident, handsome Brad Swanson, and she felt angered that she was called out for her wrongdoing by Azadah. She had wanted Azadah to tell her that she was completely in the right; she wanted to hear that John was the villain in this personal crisis and that she should just keep doing what she was doing. She wanted justification for strong, perhaps unbalanced response to John. But now she was hurt again, and it was not Azadah's fault. Cameron realized that she was ashamed.

Perhaps she was justified in being angry at John, and perhaps she was justified in wanting Brad instead of John, but there was no excuse for blowing up at Azadah, who was just telling it like it was. Azadah, like she had said, was completely faithful and Cameron knew she was way out of line with her accusations. She had developed pride…overactive pride that had cost her everything. This was not a terminator issue. This was a very human issue, Cameron knew, and one she would need to work on immediately. But now, how did she get back her friends? She had already messed up, how could she convince them to forgive her again? What if what she had said and done was too much to forgive? Even if it was forgivable, it could not be forgettable.

For the first time in her conscious existence, Cameron felt what seemed to be some sort of lump in her throat, but her system detected no physical abnormalities present. She felt the newly awakened chemicals in her biological braining churning and influencing her power source, her CPU, and bio glands. She had the urge to release the grown angst inside her, but she did not know how. For now, the best course of action, rather than try to understand her new emotions, was to try and solve the problem with trial and error.

The first thing to try, Cameron thought as she began walking toward the Dress Barn, was to simply apologize. However, judged by Azadah's angry reaction, this would probably not suffice. She would need to buy or make her something in order to prove her sincerity. If this did not work, Cameron knew she might be subject to some form of punishment. Whatever needed to be done, Cameron was determined to do it. Her emotions were awakening, and she knew it would not be psychologically sound to be alone, as this often led to depression in humans…at least, this is how Cameron justified her desire to reunite with her friend.

The terminator found her "big sister" just where Azadah said she would be: in the dress store. Azadah was holding up a plain, light purple gown over her body, humming and hawing. She was pretty busy looking over the dress and she did not see Cameron walk up. Cameron suddenly felt an unpleasant, though somewhat familiar emotion. She felt this same fear just before her near death (though it was very much milder right now) as she swallowed and took a breath before her friend.

"Azadah?" Cameron was unsure of whether or not to smile, frown, look at the floor…

"Glad you could join me," Azadah forced a tense smile, hoping her actions had resonated with the childlike terminator.

"Azadah, I am very…I…that was wrong of me. That was _very_ wrong of me. I feel ashamed," she forced herself to look at Azadah, "You are not a traitor, and I was wrong for saying that in anger. Is there anything I can do to show that I am sorry?"

Azadah's smile widened, "Well, you can pick out which dress you like. That's why we're here."

Cameron returned her smile, "Okay. I will do that," she said. While most teenage girls were (are) fussy shoppers, Cameron was not a normal teenage girl. She scanned all the dresses from where she stood, ran a "preview" of what they would look like on her, and narrowed it down to two. Even so, this was also a "heart" decision, and she would need to pick one that she wanted, as there were no real tactical advantages to either one and, as her brain also contained estrogen, she needed to do some physical modeling.

"No," Azadah shook her head as Cameron came out of the dressing room with the first one, "Too low cut. Too much cleavage hanging out. You don't want to give your date too much of a show."

"But I like this dress. It's comfortable and it resembles ones I've seen celebrities wear. And I don't think Brad will be lustful just because of this," Cameron reasoned.

"Cameron, let me tell you something about guys," Azadah fought the urge to roll her eyes, "They are very visual. They all have trouble _not_ lusting, even if they don't want to. Most just use different counter measures to control these urges, and it's not a woman's fault that they are pigs, but it's best not to encourage them to want to nail you."

Cameron looked a little disappointed, but she nodded, "Thank you for explaining. I'll try the other one."

Azadah _really_ liked this one, a tastefully-cut but still attractive glossy blue gown. Cameron decided that this one was good as well. Though it was expensive, both Cameron and Azadah pooled their money and decided that this is what Cameron should wear to the prom.

"I still think I want to date Brad, though," Cameron said as they left the store, "I feel like he respects me and he is physically attractive. Also, he doesn't know what I am and I can keep it that way unless there is an attempt on John's life, so he will not have any prejudice against me."

"Cameron," Azadah sighed, "As your friend, I am going to say I don't approve. If you want to, that's up to you, so long as it doesn't interfere with the mission, but in general, it's not a good idea, and I don't approve of him in particular.

"Also, don't run from what you are. You're a terminator, fine, but you're much more than that. Don't let people like Derek's view of you influence what you see yourself as. People need to love others for who they are, not who they think they are."

"So, I should tell Brad what I am?"

"No!" Azadah held up her hands, "But…uh, not because it's shameful, but well…for obvious reasons you can't…"

"I understand. Thank you for explaining," Cameron replied. For a moment neither of them spoke as they walked toward the parking garage. Then Cameron added, "Over the past three weeks, however, there have been times that I wished I was a human and not a terminator."

Before Azadah could respond, Cameron's phone rang. Immediately, she picked up.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?" Sarah asked.

"At the mall. We're leaving for home now," Cameron replied, "I got a prom dress. It is glossy blue and tastefully cut."

"I'm sure it's lovely, but get home now, we have an op," Sarah said flatly.

"We will be there in approximately twenty-five minutes," Cameron hung up the phone.

"Duty?" Azadah asked.

"Yes. I would advice telling Major Osborn. We'll need manpower."

* * *

"Sarah, I…no! I can't let you do that!" Ellison argued over the phone, "You want to go back to the place that got you on the Ten Most Wanted list…after I spent so much time convincing the FBI that you should be cleared of the charges?"

"I was cleared of killing Dyson, not of blowing up the building," Sarah replied, "And I'm well aware that my going back into Cyberdyne now would be, at the very least, stupid. But if you had just let me finish, you would understand."

The FBI agent sighed, "Okay, what do you have in mind?"  
"The reason I called," Sarah explained, "Is because I need you to pull up files on Cyberdyne employees. Find out if any of them have a felony criminal history."

"Uh, okay. What are you looking for? Someone connected with Sarkissian?"

"No. Just anything. Drug trafficking, hacking into the CIA, weapons charges, attempted murder, pedophilia, shitting off the Empire State Building…" Sarah rambled.

"Why? Sarah, this doesn't make any sense! What, are you trying to just smear them now? That's not going to do crap," Ellison had been reclining when he picked up the phone, enjoying his nearly month-long paid leave, but now was bolted upright, "Besides, didn't you take them out of the picture in Ninety-four? They've gone back to making security system programs…"  
"James," Sarah was a little irritable, but she held her tongue, "I understand all this. I don't think they're gonna be the ones to make Skynet. But we do need to get in there to get a code that can lead us to whatever becomes Skynet."

"So how does that involve me…or the FBI?" he asked.

"We need something to justify an FBI raid on Cyberdyne," Sarah said, nodding to Cameron as she and Azadah walked in the door.

"Whoa! Whoa! No! I can't get the Bureau in on this! I am coming off a thirteen year failed attempt to capture you, requesting you be pardoned, and an investigation into why I'm the only one of an entire SWAT team not torn to bits! Sarah, as much as I want to help, I am in no position to manipulate them like that!"

"I didn't say that the FBI actually would raid," Sarah sighed, "I need something to justify a raid. Just get me what I need, and I'll explain what I'm planning to do. Don't worry, nobody is going to get hurt. That's one of the reasons I'm requesting this of you."

Defeated, Ellison sighed, "Alright then, give me a couple hours, I'll get back to you. Bye."

Sarah hung up the phone and motioned for Azadah to sit down if she wanted, which she did, followed by Cameron. "Okay, the mission I had planned on is on hold until Ellison gets back to us. Sorry I had to cut your shopping trip short," she said.

"Do you want to see my prom dress?" Cameron asked.

"No. Don't care," Derek grumbled, continuing with his weapon cleaning.

"I don't think she was talking to you, Derek," John said with a scowl.

"I wasn't talking to you either, John," Cameron replied icily, "I was talking to Sarah."

Sarah was a little caught off guard. She didn't expect Cameron to ask that.

"Do you want to see my dress, Sarah? It is glossy blue and tastefully cut." Cameron replied.

Sarah shrugged, "Sure."

Cameron, with an eager look on her face, pulled open the box and showed the gown. Sarah was genuinely impressed. It was a very nice purchase.

"Wow! Very nice," She nodded at Azadah, "Good pick."

"Oh, she narrowed it down to two, and I told her this was the best one," Azadah replied, a little disappointed in Sarah's hidden swipe at Cameron, "She was really the one who picked it out."

"Oh, well…good job, Tin Miss. You have decent taste," Sarah forced a smile, "We'll have to set up a time next Saturday for you to get your hair done."

"Why don't you guys forget about that pretty, artificial exterior of the Tin Can and picture a metal robot in a prom dress," Derek stood up, no emotion on his face, "then maybe you'll remember that she'll probably snap her date's neck quicker than…"

"Derek, leave me alone!" Cameron snapped, "Stop picking on me."

"Derek," John added, "you're not helping. Just…butt out if you're not going to say something nice."

"Okay, let's not start," Sarah held up her hands, "I…think I will go check on the chicken. It should be ready in about a half hour."

Derek decided not to argue and went back to the weapons. Cameron grit her teeth and clenched her fists while glaring at him.

"Cameron," Azadah put her hand on the terminator's shoulder, worried she might act rashly. At the sound of Azadah's voice, Derek looked up again at the enraged cyborg. His face showed a blank slate that could have made someone mistake him for a terminator; he cared absolutely nothing about insulting Cameron. Realizing this, Cameron relaxed and turned around as Derek went back to cleaning the guns.

John, not wanting to get in the middle of something he could not win, made his way upstairs. Still looking furious, Cameron followed him, followed herself by Azadah.

"Thank you, John," Cameron shot him a glare, "It only took you eight months to finally say something to Derek; that's sarcasm again in case you didn't know. You believe that this one time standing up for me is good enough to erase…"

"Cameron!" Azadah snapped, giving her a light slap in the arm. Cameron suddenly closed her mouth and looked at Azadah, eyes wide. They both looked at John who had just had too much. His face was a portrait of hurt and despair as he dropped his head and continued on into his room, slamming the door behind him. "Cameron, in your room, now. We need to talk again," Azadah ordered, not looking at her.

Once they were in the room, Azadah shut the door and turned to face the still angry, but now a bit bewildered terminator. "What…was…_that?_" she hissed.

"You see?" Cameron explained, "He doesn't care! All of a sudden you're here and…"

"He stood up for you, Cameron! I thought that's what you wanted! After all that's been going on, he showed no malice and he stood up for you," Azadah said, a fierce edge on her voice, "And you got angry at him for it. Why? What did he do wrong?"

"He's just so…" Cameron stopped. She had been depending, unknowingly, almost entirely on her new emotions to respond to John. Now, she tried to access her CPU for reasons why she said what she said. A few logical responses came up, but her emotions told her that they were still wrong. She would have to think up something though. "He doesn't ever…"

"I'm listening," Azadah folded her arms. Cameron's head dropped and she clutched her knees.

"I…I don't know. I don't know why I said that."

"You hurt him. That was wrong. As wrong as what you did to me," Azadah's voice was steady as she explained.

"Perhaps he was faking hurt in order to gain your sympathy," Cameron offered.

"Cameron Phillips!"

"I'm sorry," she apologized, "I'm really confused. I don't know why I did that."

"You don't have to apologize to me," Azadah replied. She was silent for a moment before adding, "I think I know why you did that…but I'm going to let you figure it out. Unfortunately, like you said before, what's done is done. You can figure it out, but I won't guarantee that John will ever be able to stand up for you again…what would be the point? You get mad at him no matter what. You better start thinking long and hard about all this, Cameron," Azadah opened the door and left Cameron to begin pondering.

* * *

John didn't know what to feel. He didn't know if he did right or wrong. He didn't know whether to feel ashamed or angry, but he was betting on the former because it seemed these days that he couldn't do anything right. He lay on his side, staring at the wall when he heard a knock at the door.

"Yeah?"

"It's Azadah."

"Come in."

The Persian girl walked in to see John facing away.

"John?" Nothing. "John."

He looked over at her. Azadah could see it in his eyes; he was utterly beaten and exhausted, hurt beyond anything imaginable. That last swipe Cameron had took was the straw that broke the camel's back.

John grit his teeth hard and grabbed a handful of blanket, trying not to start crying as Azadah came over to sit on his bed.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, "I'm sorry she hurt you."

"It wasn't you. You don't have to apologize," he choked out, "You did the best you can. I'm just hopeless. I can't do it. I'm a born prick and nothing I do is going to change that."

"Why?" Azadah forced a small laugh.

"I don't know," he grit his teeth harder as a tear rolled down his cheek, "I'm trying so hard, but nothing I do is good enough. And I know it's me because my mom treats her worse than me and she still seems okay with Mom! So I must be doing something stupid and have too much shit for brains to even notice. I tried to stand up for her and I meant it, and I hoped she might start to not be angry anymore, but she's right. What the fuck was I thinking that that one thing was going to actually make up for any of the other shit I did?" His tears had begun to flow freely now and he nose was beginning to clog. Azadah gently put her arm around him and guided his head to her shoulder.

"No, no," she said, "Don't think that about yourself. It's not true. It's not true at all. She's confused and hurt, but not by you. This is all new to her, remember."

"But what did I do? Why is she still mad at me and not my mom or Derek?" John sobbed. He felt like a melodramatic loser for crying over this, but he couldn't help himself.

""It's because you care about her that she has targeted you. Sarah and Derek don't care what she thinks, but you do. That's why; it's wrong, it's unfair, and it's cruel, but she needs to figure that out, and I know her well enough to know that she will. Just…Cameron!" Azadah turned to see the terminator standing in the doorway, a look of curiosity on her face, "Cameron, go away."

"Why? What…"

"Do it. We'll talk later," she said sternly. Cameron knew she would be fighting a losing battle, so she complied.

John looked up at Azadah, his eyes puffy, and nodded, "I love her still. I…I just don't know how much I can take."

"Just hang in there," Azadah smiled, "You've done what you need to do, she'll come around. She's a learner, remember. A stubborn one, yes, but she learns nonetheless."

"I've…I haven't done everything," John reached over to his nightstand and grabbed the letter he had written about a week ago, "I haven't given it to her yet. I'm waiting for the right time," he shook his head, "but I don't know what good it will do anyway. But I'll try."

* * *

Dinner was quiet. Cameron had decided to join them and had a medium portion of white meat and peas, enjoying the taste much more than the humans around her, who found Sarah's umpteenth attempt at roast chicken dry and dull once again (though nobody commented).

"Why do you allow her to eat our food?" Derek finally broke about a ten minute silence, "I mean, she's…"

"Reese," Azadah warned, "Don't make a problem where their isn't one."

Sarah shrugged and looked at Cameron who had ignored Derek's comment and continued to chew her food quietly. "It does no harm. Not like we're going to finish the whole thing. Might as well put the leftovers in that tin can," she gestured to Cameron, "Than that one," she gestured to the garbage can. Derek laughed.

"Mom," John groaned.

"What?"

_Sigh_, "Nothing."

"In addition to my enjoyment of taste, it helps balance the blood sugar level in my biological brain and allows me to function in a better state of mind," Cameron explained.

_Yeah, she just insulted you, and I'm sure you're going to blame _me_ later, huh, Cam?_ John thought bitterly, _It's all my fault, _everything_ that you don't like is my fault. Hell, I'm responsible for Skynet, I'm sure. And I hope Titanic is not on TV tonight because that will probably make you think I did that too; you'll get pissed off at the iceberg and blame it on me._

His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing phone.

"That's probably Ellison," Sarah said, excusing herself from the table. She was surprised; Cyberdyne must have some dirty people working there. "James?" she said into the receiver.

"Okay, I got two people there with felonies. Alexander Kay, a programmer who just got off parole for breaking and entering and grand larceny about eight years ago, and Miguel Orlando, who's a janitor there who's got a long rap sheet including assault, assault on a police officer, assault with a deadly weapon, five counts of cocaine, twice with intent to sell, he's suspected of having ties with the Mexican Cartel, is currently on probation for third degree sexual assault, and has a restraining order on him by his son's mother. Plus, he's known to carry illegally."

"Perfect," Sarah had a really good feeling now, "That's absolutely perfect."

"So, what are you planning to do?" Ellison asked.


	20. Drug Raid

Drug Raid

Drug Raid

24 March 2007

1030 Hours

Voices Identified: Connor, Sarah; Ellison, James

SC: "We'll have at least four going in."

JE: "No good. For a raid like this, you'd need more than that. At least eight."

SC: "We're not planning on shooting or anything. We just need an excuse to get in there. It's going to be hard to refuse an FBI SWAT team."

JE: "Wait, wait. Don't get the Bureau involved. Cyberdyne Plus FBI equals James Ellison equals Sarah Connor...use a different cover."

SC: "Good point. We'll use another agency then."

JE: "How do you plan to keep the night guard occupied then? You're going to have to have enough agents to detain them and still have at least two to four to take down this guy. Remember, if you don't want to get on the radar that quickly, you're going to have to do that...

SC: "This is all we've got. If they even get a hint that I'm involved, we're screwed, so I've got to stay outside. John and Cameron will be in charge getting the code. Our pawn's shift starts at ten p.m., so we're hitting Cyberdyne around ten thirty. In the mean time, we gotta do some shopping."

JE: "Alright. I'm going on the record to say this is insane, but do what you gotta do. Good luck."

Call Ended

Cromartie knew bugging Ellison's phone at work had a high probability of success. Unfortunately, Sarah Connor was smart enough to put a scrambler on her own phone, making it impossible to track the origin. Still, now he knew when and where to hit. He would meet them halfway.

_27 March_

_2220 Hours_

John was antsy once again. Here he sat in the back of Ellison's barrowed Suburban in army surplus black coveralls, a balaclava, Kevlar helmet, and his body armor. Sarah had recently picked up a bunch of DEA patches, which everyone had sown on their vests. Once again, he was armed with the M4 CQBR, which, with Sarah's blessing, had become his personal weapon. He liked its lightweight, versatility, and ability to take down terminators with the right ammo. Tonight, though, everyone who carried a rifle was loaded with Mk262 Mod 1 rounds. These rounds were devastating to soft tissue, though they would do little good against a terminator. However, they were not planning on battling any terminators, and they needed to use the XM1009 rounds sparingly, so they went with the older, slightly more common round.

John glanced over at Cameron. She had opted to arm herself with an MP5 submachine gun; Derek also carried an MP5. Osborn, sitting behind John and Cameron, carried a Remington 870 shotgun, and Larson had armed himself with another M4. There was no doubt that they were menacing, disguised perfectly as FBI agents. They would overwhelm Cyberdyne, detain their man long enough for John to get what he needed, and then get out.

"So, what are we doing about the guards?" Derek asked.

"I called about an hour ago and warned them about a raid," Sarah replied, "They've locked down the place to make sure the guy doesn't get out. We'll have a warrant that Ellison forged, so we'll be able to go anywhere in the building. Anyone asks what we're doing, we're looking for a hundred kilos of coke."

"They're likely to call the DEA office to confirm this; if they haven't already, they'll do it after the raid," Cameron stated.

"We'll worry about that later, for now," she stopped the car outside Cyberdyne, "Let's go."

The "team" jumped out of the vehicle and made their way to the door, keeping a good, close train, covering one another. They were in no danger right now, but they did need to keep up the charade that they were a team of Drug Enforcement agents seeking to detain a known drug dealer with violent tendencies who had slipped under the radar to get a job with Cyberdyne. They, however, did not see the black Buick pulling around to the other side of the building and the menacing, stone faced terminator scanning the team as they entered.

When they entered the building, they were greeted by a guard carrying a pump-action shotgun. Cyberdyne guards were not generally armed, but they did have a locker with shotguns in case of an emergency.

"He's on the third floor cleaning the bathroom," the guard said, "Every elevator is stopped and we only have one stairwell unlocked. Are the men up there in any danger?"

"Only if they try and take him down. Have them watch the stairwells and make sure no one gets in or out. We don't need this asshole getting his Cartel buddies in for backup," Osborn said, "Okay, guys, let's go!"

Quickly but quietly, they made their way up the stairs. John noticed that it had not been changed much in the rebuilding since they had destroyed most of it in 1994. Everything was pretty much the way it was.

"Perhaps we should try and destroy this place again after we have the code," Cameron suggested, "It's not in my files but Cyberdyne still might be connected in some way to Skynet."

"Tin Miss?" Derek said.

"Yes?"

"Shut your fucking hole," Derek agreed with her whole heartedly, but he would not admit that.

When they reached the third floor, Osborn ordered them to stack up and prepare for entry. Once in place, he opened the door quietly and let the train behind him slip in. John was last, with Cameron just in front of him. He did not want to seriously consider the possibility, as it was horrible, but he was not sure whether or not Cameron would protect him. Most people would put aside personal differences and knew how to discriminate between work and play, but Cameron had not shown whether or not she understood this.

The team entered the floor and moved through the hallway without incident. Then, just as they rounded the corner, they heard a door up ahead open and out stepped Orlando. He turned to see the black clad unit moving toward him and his eyes went wide.

"Federal agents! Get on the ground now!" Osborn yelled.

Orlando's shock suddenly turned to anger and he tried to reach behind him, probably for a pistol.

"Don't even think about it!" John yelled.

"Keep your hands where we can see them," Derek added.

Realizing he had just had a major lapse in judgment that nearly cost him his life, Orlando then complied and dropped to his knees.

"What the fuck did I do?" he growled.

Osborn and Larson moved forward to detain him, violently knocking him to the ground, flipping him over, and taking out a pair of flex cuffs.

"John, go find his stash!" Osborn looked up and gestured toward the computers down the hall.

"What stash? I don't fucking keep my shit here, dumbass!" Orlando said, "What the fuck is going on? You DEA assholes fucking think you own the fucking country! What the fuck is wrong with a little yay-yo? You fucking watch Scarface and all of a sudden you fuckin' wanna bust everyone who's just trying to make a fucking living! Who the fuck gives a flying fuck what the fuck people do? Fuck you, motherfuckers! Fucking punkass, cocksucking motherfucking…MOTHERFUCKERS!"

"Very wide vocabulary he has," John observed as he headed to the computers.

"He has mostly just used various forms of the word 'fuck.' I wouldn't call that 'wide,'" Cameron said. This was probably the first time she had said anything to John that was not angry in the past three weeks, but John did not really notice.

"Sarcasm, Cameron," John replied as he sat down. Orlando was continuing his obscene barrage. John heard Derek inform Orlando that he was not helping his case by complaining about the unjustness of America drug laws and admitting that he had them.

"Esse, I killed motherfuckers before! Don't think I'm just some mule; I'm a real fucking gangster. I fucking killed a Mexican cop when he tried to check my trunk in Tijuana; don't think I won't kill none of you DEA motherfuckers! I'll fucking get bailed out by the fucking Cartel. I'll fucking kill every fucking one of your fucking families, and you won't be able to do shit about it because I'll be across the fucking border, and the cops we don't kill there, we fucking own, motherfuckers!"

"You finished?" Derek said.

"Fuck you!" Orlando spat.

Derek delivered a swift kick to the kidney, turning him over, then gave an even more vicious kick to Orlando's solar plexus. John did not need to turn around to know what was going on. He heard the air bursting from Orlando's lungs.

"Now shut your cock holster!" Derek said as the gangster at his feet gasped for breath.

* * *

Cromartie exited the car and made his way silently to the south entrance to Cyberdyne. So far, there was no local law enforcement involved, which would make the job a bit easier. Still, he knew that should any cops or agents show up, they would face the same fate as the FBI team he had dispatched three weeks ago. However, he wished to do this quietly if possible, as any survivors among law enforcement who could testify on behalf of Sarah Connor's claims would just make the development of Skynet that much more difficult. As it was, he knew that his earlier calculations were incorrect, and James Ellison, while not a threat at that moment, had proven to be a threat now, and should have been terminated. Still, none of these thoughts were going through his CPU; right now, all he was worried about was the mission at hand.

Effortlessly, he pulled the fire escape door off its hinges and began to climb the stairs. When he reached the second floor, he found himself face to face with an armed, nearly obese Cyberdyne security guard. The wannabe cop nearly jumped a mile as the imposing terminator bore down on him.

"Agent Kester: FBI. I'm supervising the raid. Can you tell me what floor the assault team is on?" Cromartie said coldly.

"Can I…see your badge?" the guard stuttered.

"I don't have my credentials with me. Now step aside," Cromartie ordered.

"I can't let you…I can't…no. You have to show me your badge first," the guard replied.

Without a word, Cromartie's arm shot out and clutched the guard's neck in a death grip. The guard's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as Cromartie lifted him off his feet. "You are wrong," he said simply before squeezed and twisted, crushing the guard's neck and windpipe, then tossing him like a rag doll down the stairs. Now, armed with the shotgun, he made his way up to the third floor.

"Have you got the code yet?" Cameron asked, a hint of impatience in her voice.

"Almost…almost…there!" John replied, "Okay, Cameron, look at this and memorize it."

The terminator turned and looked at the code on the screen, taking in the sequence. About three seconds later, "Okay, done."

"Good. We're good to go, Major," John announced.

"Okay, let's get this parasite locked up," he replied, pulling the foul-mouthed gangster to his feet.

Suddenly, there was sickening, twisted metal sound and a thunderous crash around the corner.

"What the fu…?" Osborn signaled Mike Larson and Derek to hold as he walked toward the sound, his shotgun at the ready. He reached the corner and turned to see what was there. The last thing he saw and heard was a blinding flash and a thunderclap as a load of double ought buckshot completely shredded his head, spraying the walls with blood, brain, and skull fragments. Death came so quickly Osborn did not even feel any pain.

Larson saw his commander snap back like he had been hit with a sledgehammer and drop to the ground limply.

"Shit!" he yelled, "John! Cameron! We've got company!"

"Fucking metals!" Derek raised his MP5 and began backing up toward John and Cameron, "Sergeant, let's go!"

"We have to check the Major!" Larson insisted.

"He's dead! We have to go now!" Derek ordered, "Sarah, they found us. We've got what we need and we're coming out!" he said into the radio. He turned back to see that Larson was still running toward his fallen commander. "Larson! Move out now!" he ordered just as Cromartie rounded the corner. Derek knew it would be pointless to try and get Larson. He was on his own, or both of them were dead.

Larson raised his M4 and let loose a storm of lead. The Mk262 bullets did little but tear Cromartie's skin and leave small indents on his skeleton. In about three seconds, his clip was empty. Relying on his training, Larson slung his rifle and drew his sidearm, but before he could get a shot off, Cromartie fired a shot into his shoulder, nearly tearing Larson's arm off. The resistance fighter screamed in pain, but took off running as the terminator chambered another shell. Cromartie then leveled the shotgun on Larson and fired walk walking, this time taking out his knee.

"Shiiiit!" Larson grimaced as the terminator bore down on him. He pointed his H&K USP .45 at Cromartie and squeezed the trigger, sending a round smashing into his chest. The slow moving slug hit and shattered as it bounced off the terminator and, before Larson could get off another futile shot, Cromartie stomped on his face, splattering Larson's head like a watermelon. It was a grisly sight, but only Orlando witnessed it, cheering loudly for the terminator.

"Hey, esse! Get this fucking cuffs off me and I'll go get those other two motherfuckers!" Orlando offered.

Cromartie calculated this for a moment. He wanted to be the one who killed John himself, but it would be good to have a distraction to help him. Silently, he reached his finger in between the flex cuffs and pulled, freeing the gangster.

"Hey, thanks, bro! What are you? Like a hit man or something?" he asked as he picked up Larson's M4.

"I am assigned to terminate John Connor," Cromartie replied, watching as Orlando pathetically tried, and failed to pull the empty magazine from the rifle.

"That one of these guys?"

"Negative, he went down toward the main entrance," Cromartie said, turning back toward where he came, hoping to beat the surviving members of the team down to the bottom.

"Hey! Hey, I'm talking to you, asshole!" Orlando yelled, "How the fuck do you work these rifles?"

"How did he find us?" John wondered aloud.

"He has many ways, but it doesn't matter right now," Cameron replied, "We need to leave."

Derek, John and Cameron reached the lobby without any incident, but as they reached the front glass doors…

"Get down!" the security guard in front yelled just as he was nearly torn in half by Cromartie's shotgun.

"Shit, he cut us off!" Derek yelled, letting loose a barrage of 9mm rounds from his MP5, hoping to hit Cromartie's eyes. If he succeeded in a direct hit, he might be able to disable the terminator, but today was just not his day. Cromartie turned toward him and fired another shotgun blast, but Derek was _just_ ahead of him and the blast narrowly missed.

John popped up to fire just as Cromartie turned to him. Both the savior and the machine froze, and John knew what appeared in the terminator's heads-up-display: _John Connor, positive ID. Terminate._ John ducked, narrowly avoiding giving Skynet victory as a cloud of buckshot soared over his head and shattered the Cyberdyne sign behind him. Now Cromartie was advancing, but he was out of ammo, and Cameron was right beside John.

As though her legs were springs, she leapt at Cromartie, hitting him like a humanoid missile. She and Cromartie fell end over end until they hit the front door, breaking it in half.

"Derek, go!" John yelled.

"Fuck that!" Orlando yelled as he emerged from the stairwell, firing Larson's USP at Derek. The first round was off target, but the second one hit its mark, smashing into Derek's chest and knocking him against the front desk. Luckily for him, the body armor he wore was more than capable of stopping a .45 hollow point, and other than some bruising, he would be alright.

"Okay, I've had enough of potty mouth," John growled as he put the dot on his Aimpoint on Orlando's chest. Orlando turned to him just as he realized he was a dead man. John pulled the trigger, sending a round directly into Orlando's sternum. The round tumbled and shattered as it tore through the very stupid gangster's chest; fragments of lead and copper tore through arteries, heart valves, and bits of his lung, causing immediate massive bleeding. This was a completely fatal shot, but John decided to double tap, just for good measure. He pulled the trigger again, sending the bullet just an inch or so above and to the right of the first. Like a puppet with severed strings, Orlando dropped.

"John!" Cameron yelled as she came flying at him, reeling from a vicious kick from Cromartie. John rolled out of the way as Cameron crashed into the wall behind them. To give Cameron more time, he raised his rifle and began firing at Cromartie's eyes. The terminator flinched slightly, but continued to advanced as Cameron pulled herself to her feet.

"Had to leave the damn super bullets at home," John grumbled as he shifted his position and fired again. This time, John saw Cromartie snap back severely and a few sparks shoot out from his left eye socket, accompanied by a small plumb of smoke. The cyborg cocked his head and reached for the smoking eye.

"How you do like that?" John yelled at the now half-blinded terminator. This pause gave Cameron all the time she needed. She ripped the front desk off the floor and threw it at Cromartie who, due to his lack of depth perception, did not react fast enough before the heavy wooden piece of furniture crashed down on him, knock him to the ground.

"Go! I'll take care of him!" Cameron ordered. Derek took off running but John hesitated. "John, go now! Don't do this!" she ordered.

"But…"  
"Joh…" she was cut off as John grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the way of the desk, which Cromartie kicked with all his might at her. As soon as it had crashed to the ground, she pushed John away and pointed to the door. John did not want to leave her, but he knew he had no choice.

"I'll be back for you!" he promised as he ran toward the door, "OOoph!" a panicked guard ran right into John, his face twisted in horror as he witnessed the two steel titans battle.

"Dude, what the hell is going on?" he yelled as he grabbed John's shoulders, "What the hell is this…wait…wait, I know you. You're mom's the one who blew up this place in Ninety-four. What are you doing here? Can't you guys leave us alone…"

"Damn it, get out of here!" John yelled back, "You stay here, you're dead. Now run!"

Without another word, the guard ran off, and John made a mad dash to the Suburban, which was just around the corner.

"Cameron's still in there!" he reported as he jumped in the car.

"She'll be fine, let's go!" Derek ordered.

* * *

Cameron threw a punch at Cromartie, which he easily caught and used to twist her arm. He then kicked her legs out from under her, causing her to crash down. Before she could turn over, Cromartie grabbed Cameron and picked up her up, slamming her head against the desk over and over. Suddenly, Cameron's hands shot out and she grabbed the ruined desk, resisting with all her might to keep from being slammed again. The sudden resistance caught Cromartie off guard, and Cameron, sensing the slight hesitation and loss of balance, took advantage of the situation and pushed away, causing Cromartie to stumble back a bit. Quickly, she drew her knee up to her chest and delivered a punishing kick to the rival cyborg's chest, sending him flying into the wall. As much as she wanted to finish the fight once and for all, they were running out of time and Cameron knew she was going to have to save it for another day. While Cromartie recovered, Cameron took off running.

"Okay, Mom! She's coming, don't go too fast!" John ordered as he scooted to the back seat and reached for the door handle and pulled, letting the rear door swing open. The pretty terminator was sprinting all out with Cromartie shaking himself loose from the wall behind her. Sarah was moving away at about thirty-five miles, but Cameron could run at least five miles faster than that. A few seconds later, she was able to grab the back door and use it to pull herself in.

"Get a shotgun ready; he's coming quickly," Cameron stated.

"John, there should be one under the seat!" Sarah called back.

John reached down and pulled out the Remington 870 and unfolded the stock.

"Loaded?" he asked.

"Yep. Slugs."

"I have his," Cameron announced as she reached under the seat herself, pulling out a box of shells.

John raised the shotgun and waited for Cromartie to get closer. A shotgun with buckshot was effective to about eighty-five or so yards, and the heavy, lead slugs, even with stabilizing fins, were not accurate much past thirty yards. But when they hit…

Cromartie quickened his pace and began reaching for the Suburban as he got close. Suddenly, his one eye registered a flash and a one ounce piece of lead slammed into his chest at 1,500.6 feet per second. The pounds of pressure readings were incredible and the terminator almost lost his balance. However, he continued his pursuit, reaching for his pistol. Before he could fire, though, he was hit by a load of buckshot, which caused him to stumble again.

John adjusted his aim and pulled the trigger again, the 12 gauge shotgun slamming against his shoulder. Even still, the impact was only about half of what Cromartie felt as John watched the terminator, already reeling from his first shot and Cameron's shot, finally trip and fall. Instinctively, he chambered another round and fired, hitting Cromartie and pushing him back a few more inches. John cocked the weapon again and pointed it at the fallen terminator as the Suburban sped further and further away. As Sarah pulled the emergency break and slid around the corner, John pulled the back doors shut, seeing Cromartie jump to his feet and consider pursuit. However, by this time, there was very little chance that he would get up enough speed to catch up with them, and even if he did, he would just get shot again…it would be pointless.

"Shit!" John slammed his fist against the seat.

"What are you upset about? We accomplished the mission," Cameron stated in her old, monotone voice.

"Yeah, and we lost two good men," John glared at her.

"That happens in war, John," Derek said, almost so unemotionally he almost sounded like a terminator, "That was just two. You're gonna see thousands dead after Judgment Day. Get used to it."

"Damn it, I know that," John growled back, "it happens, and they gave their lives for a good cause and a worthy mission…but they're not even going to get a funeral…"

"We'll remember them," Sarah said, "As long as someone does, and some one knows what they did, they have their honor."

"It was worth it," Cameron said, "I am sorry for their deaths as well. They were good soldiers and their abilities will be missed. But perhaps we all would be terminated if they had not distracted Cromartie."

"Don't get attached to your men, John. You cannot be emotionally attached to anyone or anything if you want to lead. You cannot think of people, you need to only think of the mission…victory is all…"

"Derek!" Sarah snapped. She could not believe her ears; Cameron was being more heartfelt and humanitarian than this soldier!

"That's one of the things that makes me become the grade-A dickwad in the future! I'm not going to be that!" John declared, "Every death is a tragedy, Derek! Maybe a lot of deaths are acceptable, or even necessary, but it still sucks. I'm not going to forget that."

"Oh my God," Derek rolled his eyes and turned back to face John, "Get rid of this liberal 'I love everything' attitude you got, Johnny! It's going to get you and everyone else on the planet killed! You're going to make shitty decisions because you can't bear thinking about your precious children going to their deaths, and you're going to get yourself killed if you keep letting these tin cans suck your dick…"

"Derek Reese!" Sarah yelled, "Shut…up!" Even if she had some agreement with his point, that last crack was over the line. Cameron thought so too.

"Derek, in case you didn't notice…I'm SITTING RIGHT HERE!" Cameron roared, her somewhat scratched up but still very pretty face twisting in anger, "Stop slandering me all the time. I have not performed any sex acts with anyone, and I would _never_ do that with John. I do not know what I did to you before my memory was scrubbed, so stop holding it against me because I cannot do anything about it!"

Derek sighed, "Fine, we'll drink a toast to Larson and Osborn tonight."

"We have to do better than that," Sarah replied, "we'll have to give them the honor any fallen soldier's family deserves."

* * *

Cromartie looked around at his surroundings. There were police cars up the street racing toward the banged up Cyberdyne building. He increased the zoom on his one good eye and noticed that there was an LAPD SWAT van among the fleet of police vehicles, which meant that he needed to get moving. If another SWAT team was massacred, especially one probably commanded by some officers who had encountered the T-800 and T-1000 in 1994, it would not do well for Marius' public attempts to develop the Turk into Skynet.

The terminator figured that the best course of action would be to try and track John Connor to his home. This would prove to be difficult still, as he had been trying constantly since arriving in 2006 with no luck. The young man he met at the internet café had either lied to him or did not know the John Baum Cromartie was looking for. He knew the highest chance for acquisition would be to track down someone who knew exactly where the Connors were, and knew them as the Connors. Agent Ellison was too smart to lead him directly to John and Sarah. Who else was there?

_Tune in tomorrow, kids! Prom finally!_


	21. Prom

Prom

Prom

It was never easy to deliver the news of death, especially the deaths of those who were so dedicated to their cause. Nonetheless, they needed to tell the remaining members of the resistance team. Azadah answered the door to the warehouse when Sarah stood there to deliver the tragic news. She silently nodded, then added that Jenna would be devastated as she and Mike Larson had an unspoken thing going. After a brief moment of silence, the surviving members of the mission departed for home, arriving just before midnight.

"You executed the mission very well," Cameron said as she followed John up the stairs, "You stayed clear headed and only had one moment of hesitation, and you will learn not to do that as time progresses."

John turned to respond. _Finally_, it seemed like this feud was over.

Unfortunately, "Know that I do not wish your death and I will fight for your life and to keep Skynet from being created," she added, "However, your pride and personal feelings are not my prerogative to protect…and neither are mine yours to protect. We will fight together, but that is it."

John nodded, "So, can we be friends?"

"No," Cameron stated, "That would mean that we have to consider one another's feelings. You have let me down too many times in that."

"As have you," John grumbled back, "so fine."

"You are twice as guilty as I am!" Cameron pointed her finger at him and said loudly, "After all I have…"

"I know, Cameron," John was tired of this, "Let's leave it at that. I won't bother you and you won't bother me unless it's something having to do with a mission."

"Yes."

This was not what John wanted. He wanted a fully repaired friendship; he wanted to go back to the way things were…but he had blown it. He had eight months to clean up his act and it should not have taken Cameron going on the offensive for him to come around. Was this unfair? Yes, probably, but it was just the way it was. Maybe in time, things would change, but terminators were stubborn, so he doubted it. At any rate, she needed to know just what he felt and, whether she accepted it or not, he would tell her. The key was just waiting for the right time.

* * *

_Next Morning_

_1000 Hours_

"Yeah, this is tight," Amanda Ramirez admired the back of her new blouse in the women's room mirror, "It totally like makes me look ten pounds thinner."

"How much did you pay?" her friend Madison asked.

"It was like, on sale for like, eighty bucks."

"That's tight," Madison agreed.

"Seriously, what does that Cameron Baum girl have that I don't?" Amanda complained, "Brad just threw himself at her when I've been trying to get him to notice me since the summer."

"Let's see, what does she have?" Madison tapped her lip, "A dancer's body, great hair, beautiful brown eyes, sexy, pouty lips, and she's mysterious…you're hot too, hun, but she probably…"

Cameron entered, still laughing as she completed a conversation with one of Brad's friends.

"Speak of the Devil," Amanda crossed her arms and tapped her foot. Cameron looked over at them and frowned.

"Hello, Amanda. Hello, Madison," she greeted.

"Brad's little slut," Madison sneered.

"Excuse me?"

"I said 'Brad's. Little. Slut. Jeez, do you have a hearing problem, girl?"

"I don't have a hearing problem," Cameron corrected.

"Okay, fine. Just tell me something," Amanda circled around her, "How is it that you're dating Brad?"

Cameron smiled and batted her eyes, "Because, he finds me attractive and values me."

"And you're blowing him I'm sure," Madison said, causing Amanda to giggle.

"Blowing him?"

"Uh, yeah. You know…oral sex? Are you retarded or something?" Madison tapped on Cameron's head.

"I have not had any kind of sexual relations with Brad Swanson," Cameron responded irritably, "I am assuming that your reason for questioning me about this is due to jealousy."

"I've been trying to get Brad to notice me since last year!" Amanda yelled, "And you just waltz in here and all of a sudden, he's all over you!"

"I'm sorry you're jealous," Cameron gave a teasing smile, "Perhaps I'm just more attractive than you. Now, I have to go to class," and with that, she left.

"Bitch whore," Amanda said.

* * *

"John?" Cheri followed him out of class, a little bit concerned by his recent spacey attitude.

"Hey," he said simply, making sure to keep eye contact with her and not to look down at her body. Cheri was dressed unusually provocative today with a low cut, spaghetti strap top and a short miniskirt. In fact, John realized, she had been a lot more provocative lately, mostly since she and John were set for the prom. Gone was the old, sheltered Cheri Westin. She obviously was now interested in John.

"Are you okay? You seem out of it," she said, "In fact, you've been out of it for the last few weeks. Do you still want to go the prom with me?"

"Yes," he answered immediately, "That hasn't changed. I'm just…home problems, that's all. I've got a lot on my mind," he turned to see her frown, "I don't mean to neglect you or anything. I'm sorry…uh, I'm sure I'll feel better by prom."

"Okay," Cheri smiled, "ready for lunch?"

"Yep."

As they sat and ate, John could not help but think of how ironically things turned out. A month ago he would have been _begging_ for Cheri to show this much interest. Why was it that opportunities like this only opened after you did not want them? Still, he wondered if Cheri should be a consideration once again with his chances with Cameron pretty well shot to shreds.

"…John? Hello?" Cheri waved her hand in front of his face.

"Yeah, sorry, spacing out again," he apologized, "What did you say?"

"I said I understand now why you're worried about Cameron. Ever since she started hanging out with Brad Swanson, she's been popular and kind of snobby. She used to at least say hello to me, now she ignores me when I say hi. And I also heard her tell Alex Erikson, who had a crush on me, that anyone who hung out with you had 'questionable judgment,'" Cheri shook her head sadly, "that's too bad. She used to be nice. I think the old her would hate the new her."

"That is very, very true," John said, suddenly having some revelations.

"One cute guy and she's corrupted," Cheri commented, a look of disgust at Brad and Cameron across lunchroom. Brad had his arm around her and was laughing about something with his friends that Cameron, judged by the look on her face, did not seem to get.

"No, I think it's the other way around," John replied, "she's gaining new awareness and independence and so she likes the guy who's giving her the most attention and she's trying to find herself in this world," he sighed, "I'm to blame though. I've been too short with her and sometimes even mean. That's why she won't talk to me for more than a few minutes at a time."

"Well, just let her know that you care about her, and maybe she'll come around," Cheri shrugged, "You did your part, now let her do hers," she put her hand on his, "you're a good man, John. You've really helped me come out of my shell, so…don't worry."

John smiled, "Thanks, Cheri."

"So, what time will you be there Saturday?" she asked.

"Uh…the thing starts at six and it's in Beverly Hills I think, so probably about four thirty," John said, "Depends on when Cameron gets dropped off with Brad."

"Can you arrive at four if possible? My dad will want to take pictures," Cheri asked with a smile.

John nearly choked. He had almost forgotten about her dad, who reportedly had her on 'lockdown.' The nightmare father, waiting on the front porch with a shotgun. John knew her dad would probably give a tour of his gun and knife collection, tell about all the people he tore apart with his bare hands while with the Navy SEALs, Green Berets, CIA…either that or talk about when he was a hitman with the mafia, then take John aside and warn him just what would happen if either one removed a single article of clothing after the prom. John was certainly not looking forward to that awkwardness.

"Uh, yeah, we can do that," he paused, "so, you're dad's okay with this?"

She grinned, "Yeah, he actually wants me to get to know you better."

John's heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, he thought maybe he was interested in her again. At least he had a shot. He knew deep down his heart still belonged to Cameron, but that really was not an option anymore.

"Well, uh, great," he grinned back and nodded, "I'm looking forward to it."

* * *

_Saturday_

_1500 Hours_

Prom day had finally arrived for Cameron and John, and Sarah was in constant anxiety. There were just so many things that could go wrong, get them on the radar, or get them killed. Plus, her trip to the hair salon with Cameron was strange. On the way there, Cameron was predictably silent, during the styling, the girl doing Cameron's hair asked the usual questions: What was her date's name? Was he cute? Were they dating or planning on it?

It did not help that Cameron said that she and Brad were indeed dating, and the girl, who obviously did not put much stock in tact, asked if Cameron and Brad were planning on doing anything "fun" after the prom. Cameron, not quite understanding, said that yes, they were planning on having a party at Brad's house. Sarah hoped that the euphemism 'fun' had just gone over Cameron's head, because if it did not, there could be trouble ahead if she started sleeping with this Brad guy.

On the way home, Cameron was suddenly very talkative, gossiping about everything at school, whether she understood it or not. Sarah tried not to laugh and mostly just smiled and answered, "huh, how about that?" to a lot of questions. As much as she hated terminators, Cameron did have a certain endearing quality about her, and there was no doubt that she was very different.

John had gotten his Tuxedo fitted on Wednesday and picked it up in the afternoon on Saturday, just before Cameron and Sarah were to leave for Brad's. He had also decided to get a haircut, getting it cut very short and adding some gel; Cheri had commented that his old haircut made him look too "emo" and Sarah had been hinting for awhile that it looked messy.

"Cameron," he heard his mother calling, "Where's the boutonnière?"

"In the refrigerator where I left it," Cameron replied as she came out of her room, fully dressed and ready.

_Good Lord,_ John thought as he struggled not to stare at Cameron. She looked _breathtaking_! Her hair was done up in a tight, elaborate design, her blue gown clung to her figure perfectly, and her face just looked…well, John did not think he could ever forget just how good she looked. As he went upstairs, a feeling of jealousy and burning filled his stomach again.

_You had your chance and you blew it!_ He chided himself, _Plus, you know how she is now, hanging out with Brad and the jocks…obviously thinks she's really great and way too good for you. Like she said: she's found a group of people who appreciate her unconditionally…but so do I…though I have failed to show it…I don't need to go over this with myself again and again. But I need her to know just what I feel._

The last two letters he wrote he never delivered. He just did not feel that he said the right things. Now, he would try one last time:

_Dear Cameron,_

_I am amazed at how much you have grown as a human. You have developed desire, an understanding of goals and self-worth, and a desire for independence. While doing this, you have been able to keep up with your missions; you are truly a great blessing._

_I have, unfortunately, recognized all this change, and acknowledge that I will have no part in it and have no place in your life other than as a fellow fighter again Skynet. It is because of me, and me alone, that you have shut me out of your life and rejected me as your friend. Instead of considering you from the beginning, I never gave enough thought to my actions until I saw how it affected you. I wish I had done something positive for you to remember, but evidently, my positive actions were too small; for that, I offer no excuse and just an apology._

_I recognize that I am no good for you, as a friend and much less as a boyfriend. What I have done is unforgivable; like a Green Beret my mother used to date always said, "Don't learn from mistakes, try just not making any." All I can say is that I am so sorry and I wish you could forgive me. I wish we could be the way we were before we started this feud; I truly miss you. I miss our conversations, your questions, the way you make me laugh, they way you know when I'm down and you try to cheer me up, even if you don't know how. Cameron, please just know that, no matter what you think of me, I still love you and I always will. Nothing you do or say can change that. I don't expect anything in return for this letter…nothing at all. I just wanted you to know these things._

_Love Always,_

_John_

John was in tears writing this. He realized once again what a dirtbag he was and just how much he loved his cyborg guardian. It hurt that she still did not want his friendship; but, perhaps her heart would soften enough for her to know that he still loved her.

"John?" his mother knocked on the door, "Are you ready yet?"

He had his pants and shirt on and unbuttoned, and he knew he needed to get moving. "Yeah, just about!" he yelled back, buttoning his last button and putting on his bowtie. He looked down at the letter and, once again, the question of just how in the hell he was going to give it to her was the question.

"John? You told Cheri you were going to get there at four!" Sarah prompted. As little relevance this had on the big picture and fight against Skynet, Sarah was enjoying being a regular mom for a day: Drive her "adopted daughter" to get her hair done, nagging her son to hurry up, looking forward to taking pictures, and well…she had a bit of a weird idea, and she needed John ready soon for it to work, "I have to take Cameron over to her date's house in ten minutes. I want to get pictures of you and her together first."

John froze. _That's not going to be good. Think of something!_ "Uh, mom, aren't we supposed to be brother and sister? It would be weird, wouldn't it?"

Sarah opened the door and smiled at her son. John decided not whine about her not asking if he was dressed before entering (since he was).

"Well, _we_ know the truth, so that's all that matters," she said, "now hurry up. I'm liking this being a normal mom thing."

Predictably, Cameron was, at best, a little bit uneasy, or perhaps annoyed, about getting her picture taken with John, who was not her friend now. However, she decided that it was best not to make a big deal about it, and she went along with it. John, on the other hand, enjoyed the photo session. Overall, though, it went well. Both of them put on very real-looking smiles and gave Sarah the impression that everything was alright.

"Alright, Cameron, we need to go now so that I can get the truck back here for John," Sarah motioned for her to follow to the door. Cameron followed, looking over her shoulder at John, a blank expression on her face. John did not know what to do back, so he offered a weak smile. To his surprise, she flashed a smile in return before looking down awkwardly and turning back around.

"See you there," he said.

"Yes," she replied.

_And I still love you,_ he thought.

About thirty minutes later, John found himself knocking at the door of the Westins' small, ranch-style house. It looked a little beat up, and it needed a paint job, but no worse than the Connor's home. Instinctively, he stood to the side of the door, the "vertical coffin" as it was known to police officers and soldiers.

"Okay, John," he breathed to himself as he straightened his jacket, "You can get through this. What are you worried about anyway? You have cyborgs after you, don't be afraid of a girl's dad."

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Mr. Westin answered the door. Cheri's father was a little bit taller than him, and he looked nothing like Cheri. In fact, he didn't look that much older than Cheri. He was a grim-looking man with short brown hair, a goatee, and looked to be in pretty good shape.

"John Baum?" he said, his voice deadpan.

"Yes, sir," John replied, trying to sound confident, though his skin was crawling.

"I'm Tom Westin. Welcome to my house. Cheri is waiting in the living room," he said, neither his voice or his expression changing as he stepped to the side to let John in.

_Is this guy really…real? He seems like a terminator._ John was worried that he would suddenly dissolve into a silver figure and take the form of a police officer just after John discovered Cheri and her real father with their throats cut in the living room. _What the hell? Isn't Cameron supposed to be with me? How did it not occur to Mom that she's not doing what she's supposed to?_

However, his fears were for nothing as he found Cheri, looking excellent, sitting in the living room.

"Hey, John," she said with a happy, genuine smile. She really did look stunning. For a second, John forgot about Cameron. "You look really cute," she said.

John blushed, "Thanks. You look great too."

"Thanks."

"The gown does look really good on her," her father stated matter-of-factly, "We're glad she got to wear it a second time."

Cheri shot him a look, "Dad…"

He did not reply. Instead, he looked John up and down, then locked eyes with him and cocked his head. "Cheri," he said without breaking eye contact, "I need to speak with you for a moment."

John was taken aback. "I'm sorry, sir. Did I say something wrong?"

Tom Westin shook his head, "No, neither of you did. It's unrelated."

John looked over at Cheri, who rolled her eyes and followed her dad toward the bedrooms. They entered the first room and shut the door. John began to tap his foot and look at his watch. They were not going to be late, but he was feeling uncomfortable naturally. Tom Westin was obviously a very uptight guy with no personality; John was glad that Derek and his mother had not come along one of them would probably have shot Mr. Westin thinking he was metal. _That_ would take a little bit of explaining. Still…

John quietly made his way down the hallway and stood outside the door. He knew what he was doing was rude, but something seemed to be up. There was a lot of speculation that Tom Westin kept Cheri on lockdown, so that could mean some kind of abuse, and John wanted to make sure that his date was going to be okay.

"No," he heard Cheri say, "I thought he looked like him. But he doesn't fit the profile."

"He looks physically like him though. How can you say that?" her father replied.

"John doesn't make advances on women, and he his protective of his sister. I don't think he has a sister, so this can't be him," Cheri reasoned.

"You'd better right. Regardless, if you are wrong, and they succeed in getting to us, this trip, everything we have done, will be for nothing," he paused, then added, "find out tonight. You know what he would never refuse."

"Wait," Cheri said, "Are you saying I should…?"

"Yes, and don't act like you don't want to, because I know you do."

"Well…maybe. But it…okay, I will. He would tell me then anyway. I understand that that is when they are at their most vulnerable. But, remember the last time. It turned out we were wrong, and we had to move; I like him and I don't want him to end up like that."

"Don't get too attached though, Cheri. Do what needs to be done first, and calculate your actions."

"I will," she said.

Though he was bewildered, John made his way back to the living room and tried to maintain composure. Were they in witness protection or something? Or…were they from the future? Did they know about the future? That conversation _had_ to concern Judgment Day and everything…didn't it? But then again, John had approached her, and it sounded like _they_ were looking for something. Everyone, Kyle Reese, Uncle Bob, Cameron, and Major Osborn's team had sought out the Connors, not remained standoffish.

"So are you ready for pictures?" Cheri asked, breaking John's thoughts.

* * *

_Bushwoods Country Club_

_1800 Hours_

The prom was at a country club in Beverly Hills that John could only wonder where his class officers got the funding for. He figured it was that overachiever class president Nicole Brody that fixed this up. Silently, he gave her kudos. The gated community had a PGA-grade golf course, a beautiful event hall, and a pool among other things. John felt a bit embarrassed driving the beat-up Tacoma to the prom, especially since most of the normal members were leaving in their Porches and Bentleys, and most of the other kids from his school were pulling up in limos. Nonetheless, his middle-to-low income schoolmates also provided company to his crappy vehicle with ugly cars of their own.

"This place is really nice," Cheri commented as John opened the door, "I like golf courses; they're always very pretty. I don't golf though."

"I tried it once," John commented as Cheri took his arm, "I lost like five balls in the woods on the first hole."

Cheri laughed, "Well, it's a good thing we're not here to golf."

The two walked past the banquet hall and toward the first hole, admiring the scenery. Then, just as John began to relax, he heard Cameron's familiar laugh.

"Well, that's pretty tight, but you're still an idiot, Corey," she said. John turned to see her with Brad and his friends and their dates. His heart skipped as he saw her clinging to Brad.

"Hey, the teacher never caught it," Corey said.

John did not know what they were talking about and did not care at all. He just hated the smug look on Brad Swanson's face; the guy did not value Cameron and was just looking forward to getting laid, which was a thought John tried to push from his mind. He hoped to God that Cameron would refuse, but after the way she had been behaving lately, he was really not so sure that would happen. If anything, she would do it to spite John.

"So," Cheri gave his arm a playful tug, "you hungry?"

"Uh…yeah," John said, "I think I saw some snacks on the porch."

They turned around and walked past Cameron and Brad, hoping to avoid them, though John knew that Cameron's sensors and trackers knew he was there, and picked him up immediately. John avoided her glance and hoped that Cheri would not say anything, but this was just not his lucky night.

"Hey, Cameron," Cheri greeted with a friendly smile.

Cameron replied with a half blank stare, half sneer.

"Enjoying yourself?" Cheri asked.

"Yes," Cameron replied, "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm with my friends."

Cheri rolled her eyes, "Your sister's got issues."

"I dunno how your brother got her to go to the prom with him," Brad's friend Miguel said to Cameron, thinking they were out of earshot, "She's hot."

"It's because they're both freaks," Cameron replied.

"Yeah, that's true," Miguel agreed.

Cheri turned to John with a look of disgust on her face, "John," she hissed, "talk to her."

John shook his head, "it's useless. She won't listen to me right now."

His date sighed, "Well, let's just have a good time. I've been trying to learn the concept of fun for awhile, and I won't let her spoil it."

"Good," John smiled.

The rest of the prom was pretty much a blur for John. He talked with a few guys, most of whom were the social outcasts, but a few of the popular guys, like Mark Gomez, a linebacker on the football team, stopped and chatted with him for awhile. Mark was known for being a pretty friendly guy and good with the ladies. He also was not a huge fan of Brad Swanson and had sympathy for John losing Cameron to him. Other than this, and his spattering of conversations with Cheri, the night was nothing spectacular. Frankly, John felt like it was a waste of over a hundred dollars for the ticket, tux, and gas to get them there. He also found out that Cheri was a very good dancer, and he was not.

"Alright, guys!" the MC of the night, Mr. Berg, who was also the coach of the new boys' lacrosse team, announced, "Everyone having fun?"

"Woooooo!" came the enthusiastic reply from the guests.

"I thought so. Okay, now it's time for you to meet the prom court."

"Wooooooo!"

"Our ladies are: Jenna West."

"Wooooooo!"

"Ayisha Vernon."

"Wooooooo!"

"Cameron Baum."

"Wooooooo!"

"And the queen of the court is: Madison Marsh!"

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

John sat wide eyed as the surprise of the evening, now Prom Princess Cameron, walked up to the stage to stand with the rest of the court. _Damn, three weeks with Dipshit, and she's in high society._

What surprised John even more was Brad did not get onto the court at all. Mark Gomez did, as did Brad's friend Corey, but Brad was left sitting, a look of disappointment and conceited envy on his face as he watched his girl and his friends getting their pictures taken and getting to take center stage for the prom song. John watched the whole thing with more interest than envy. Cameron looked more beautiful than ever as she danced with a random guy from the court, but there was something not right. Something in her eyes that said the previously energetic, confident, and now popular Cameron Baum was unhappy about something.

Eventually, everyone joined the court on the floor for the song, including John and Cheri, and slow-danced for the last minute and a half of the song. About an hour later, the prom was over.

"So, what are you doing now?" Cheri asked John.

"I dunno, I figured I'd just go home…Cameron's going to Brad's blowout, so I…"

"Why don't you come over my house?" Cheri prompted.

"Uh…your dad won't mind?"

"He had to leave for a business trip right after we left," the pretty blonde replied with a wink, "It would just be us."

John suddenly felt a wave of anxiety and excitement come over him. This was _not_ the girl he knew before, that's for sure. With the way she was toward him now and her dad out of town, he had a feeling he knew where this was going: Right into Cheri's bed. A hot girl wanted to sleep with him; he had so much tension over Cameron and he needed a release. How could he say no?

"Hey, Baum, your sister and I headed over to my place. You and Cheri can come to if you want," Brad slapped John on the shoulder as he walked past. John looked at Cameron, who looked at the floor for a moment then locked eyes with John and gave a small nod of approval.

Now John was faced with a dilemma. On one hand, he could go with Cheri, who really liked him, and have a good time watching a movie and probably end up having sex. But, he reminded himself, this was his hormones talking. He was not in love with Cheri; he liked her and he found her very attractive, but it would be no more than lust, and he swore that he would never have sex out of lust. Plus, he hated Brad, he hated Brad's friends, and in general, he thought most kids his age were a bunch of idiots and assholes.

But he did know Cameron was going to be there, and that would make him and Cheri safer. With his luck, Cromartie would show up at Cheri's house when they were there with no one around to protect them. Plus, John wanted to be there to find out what was up with Cameron, and to have some peace of mind; he would probably end up having an anxiety attack sitting at Cheri's house, wondering what Cameron and Brad were doing. At least at Brad's house he would feel more in control. Plus, he needed rationalize to his hormones why he was turning down getting laid beyond his worry that his future self's womanizing ways began later that night if he went home with Cheri.

"Cheri, do you want to?" he asked.

She shrugged and did not look too enthused, but replied, "Sure. Could be fun."


	22. John to the Rescue

John to the Rescue John to the Rescue

Cameron sat quietly in the limo as Brad and his friends joked and jostled.

"Brad, you're a pervert!" Jenna West laughed, turning her low cut gown away from Cameron's date after he had just playfully fondled her.

"Come on, you used to like it!" he replied.

"Yeah, like eight months ago and…" Brad clamped his hand over her mouth and subtlety gestured to his date, but Cameron caught it. The two had been flirting all night and it was pretty obvious that their relationship was not completely severed. Brad was smart enough to pay Cameron most of the attention, but with her confused emotions and reading of human behavior, it did not matter.

Also, Brad had spent most of the night bragging about his football accomplishments and the guys in school who were intimidated by him. He had also, when he thought Cameron was out of earshot, reminded his friends just how lucky they were that he had not asked their dates to the prom first. He had "complimented" on Corey getting his particular date as he knew, from first experience, how good she was in bed. He had also been somewhat demeaning to Cameron, rolling his eyes when she said something awkward and apologizing in front of her for her being annoying and awkward, saying things like, "I'm working on her. She'll be different after tonight." It was at this time that Cameron started wondering what, besides his physical appearance, she actually saw in Brad. Come to think of it, she had only had one actual date with him and really only spent time with him between classes at school. How well did she actually know him. Right now, she saw a familiar disappointing trait in her new love interest.

_John!_ She thought angrily. _This is just how he treats women in the future. The only redeeming aspect is that he had leadership and focused on the mission when needed. _But he thought everyone belonged to him…well, they did but it was still wrong, he had said so himself. How could he do that? Was there anything good about John? _Wait…_Cameron suddenly stopped with her thinking and accessed her CPU's archives.

_Why am I angry at John?_ She asked herself, _He did not do anything to me this evening, and this behavior I see in Brad is Brad, not John._ She was, as Azadah had warned not to do, taking out her frustration on John for no reason. _But, he insulted me so many times! More than anyone I know…didn't he?_ She went through her list of insulting things John had said to her or about her:

_You're a soulless piece of scrap!_

_Tin Bitch!_

_You may have fooled them, but you haven't fooled me._

Wait, that did not belong there, that was Derek who said that. Something was wrong! Cameron did another scan of her CPU and noticed that of the negative things she attributed to John, 300 of them were from after 2026, but she had filed them on various days from 2007. Something else was wrong: When she looked at many of the archived things that were said, there were a _huge_ amount that she was 100 percent sure John did not say. In fact, she also noticed that of the 5,662 negative and insulting things that were said to her which were attributed to John, 4,820 should have been to Derek, 403 should have been to Sarah, about 380 were supposed to be attributed to other people at school, and less than 100 were rightfully to John. She also noted that he had apologized for 56 percent of those insults. Also, she noted that John had given her 1,560 compliments of some form or another. _No wonder I've been so angry with John,_ she thought sadly, _Well, even so, it does not excuse what he did…but…neither does it justify what I have been doing._ She also noted that, in three weeks, she had said or thought 607 negative things to or about John. _That explains why he is so surprised at my treatment of him._ _Well, it does not matter. I have Brad as my boyfriend. I…think I'm happy. Yes, I'm…I don't know. I've got to do some recompiling. _She looked over at Brad, who looked back and smiled.

"So, you ready for tonight, Babe?" he asked, putting his hand _way_ to far up on her leg.

"Um, yes. It should be fun," Cameron replied, shifting uncomfortably, not understanding what Brad was implying. _It is probably too late now. My response was too disproportionate to what John did._ She still could not calculate a reason as to why she behaved the way she did. Neither her CPU nor her biological brain were able to come up with a response. _John did not really even do anything wrong in wanting to be my boyfriend. Maybe he was selfish in neglecting my feelings, but…_

"Alright, guys! Welcome to Casa de Swanson!" Brad announced as the limo pulled into the driveway. Already, there were a bunch of cars and limos there, and with Brad's parents gone, it was already wild. "Let's go, Cam," he said, helping her out of the car, "We should make some rounds before we disappear for the night."

"Wait, what?" Cameron was startled. What did he have planned?

* * *

Rolling his eyes, John parked the truck. Before he could get out, Cheri grabbed his hand.

"Are you sure you want to go?" she asked.

John did not answer, he simply looked up at Cameron and Brad entering the house.

"You're still worried about Cameron?" Cheri asked, sounding a little irritated.

John nodded.

"I think she's lost the right to your sympathy," Cheri said, "If she wants to treat us the way she's treating us, then so be it."

"No!" John said in sudden anger, "No, I'm not going to do that. She's in over her head and I'm not going to abandon her." He actually had no intention of talking to Cameron; every time he did that, she got mad. However, he wanted to be close by to make sure that _he_ was safe, and also to make sure that she did not do something stupid.

"Okaaaay," Cheri was a bit exasperated, but she would go with John.

The party was about what was to be expected. A bunch of people were dancing around to crappy rap tunes, taking shots of tequila, and drinking cheap beer.

"Yo, wanna see me shotgun this shit?" Corey yelled out, holding up a can of Keystone Light. He then grabbed a nail that was lying on the table and jammed it into the beer can, then slammed it to his lips before a drop could spill. A few seconds later, the can was empty and the crowd around Corey began to clap.

"Lovely," Cheri rolled her eyes, "do you want to find some place more private?'

John sighed. _Just do it_, he told himself, _if things start getting too hot, just tell her you can't go through with it. She'll understand._ He looked over at her and she gave him a provocative look. A jolt ran through John's body and he began to feel his heart pound. _Then again, she is pretty hot. Let's see how you feel when you're alone._ "Sure, we can go talk."

Unfortunately, all of the rooms upstairs, including the bathroom, were occupied. The kids really had not wasted any time.

"How about we just go talk to people for now? There's nowhere else to go," John suggested. Cheri nodded.

Downstairs, John looked through the drink choices, looking for something without alcohol. He had had beer many times before, but he did not hold his liquor well, and he wanted to remain of sound mind.

"John?" Cameron's voice nearly made him jump out of his skin as she appeared behind him, "We need to talk."

"What did I do now?" John asked.

"Nothing. I have some things I need to say."

"Hey, there you are!" Brad interrupted as he threw his arms around Cameron and hugged her from behind.

"Hi, Brad," Cameron replied.

"Hey, Corey was going to do a keg stand. Let's go watch him screw it up," Brad said, pointing to his idiot friend.

"Um…"

"Come on," he grabbed her hand and pulled her away. Cameron looked back at John with pleading eyes. John began to get the feeling that her interest in Brad was not as stable as she pretended it was.

_I know that look. She gives me that look every time Derek and Mom are chewing her out or if she needs to talk to me._ Then, his hope was shattered by Cameron's laugh.

Within a few minutes, Cameron was back in sync with Brad's crew, laughing and horsing around as Corey began to choke and she seemed to forget whatever was troubling her. Brad asked her if she wanted to try, and she quietly refused with a smile. He prodded her a few times and she continued to refuse, but wrapped her arms around him and leaned on him, looking very happy and, according to John, very much in love.

_Well, that changed fast,_ he thought sadly, _Brad really does make her happy. She really does like being with him. Just accept it John, she's with someone she really likes. You're going to have to get used to staying home on the weekends unless you want your head blown off, you going to have to get used to always watching them kiss hello and goodbye at school. You might have to even bear listening to…sounds coming from her room…God…DAMN IT! I can't take this!_

"You've been staring for awhile. Do you want to give that a try?" Cheri laughed.

"Uh, not now…and I'm not a fan of Natty Ice…tastes like piss," John replied, feeling lightheaded as he continued to watch the love of his life clinging to her boyfriend across the room.

Cheri nodded, "Yeah; my dad hates cheep beer, too," she was quiet for a moment before asking, "So, what did Cameron want?"

"I dunno. Brad dragged her away before she could say…" he trailed off as Brad put his arm around Cameron's waist and whispered in her ear. Cameron hesitated for a moment, then nodded, causing Brad to smile widely. He took her hand and began to lead her away from the group.

_Oh, no,_ John thought, _God, please no._ Sure enough, Brad led her up the stairs. Without thinking, John quickly walked over, being careful to follow far enough that neither one saw him. He felt like someone just dropped a load of sulfuric acid on his stomach and he felt a hot load of food begin to rise in his throat. His stomach was heaving, threatening to bring up more vomit and force it all the way out. _Cameron, please don't do this. Don't do this to me._ He made it to the top of the stairs just as Brad closed the door to his room. John felt his legs give out underneath him and he collapsed on the top step.

* * *

"Sooo…lights on or off?" Brad asked seductively.

Cameron still was a bit oblivious as to what was going on, "Uh, lights on I suppose. It would make it easier to see one another," that seemed pretty obvious. _Cameron, it was like John said,_ her newly developed inner monologue reminded her, _love just happens. Why were you trying to convince yourself that you liked him just a minute ago? If you do, you do, if you don't, you don't._

"I like that too," Brad said, switching on his lamp. Quickly, he made his way across the room, where Cameron was leaning against the wall, getting nervous. She was not worried that he would try and harm her, but she felt awkward and was not sure where this was going or what she was supposed to feel. Then, in one fluid motion, Brad took her chin and pressed his lips to hers in a deep, passionate kiss. Cameron, caught off guard, opened her mouth a bit, which allowed Brad to stick in his tongue.

"Wait, no," she said, breaking the kiss, suddenly realizing what was happening.

"Sorry," he said, kissing her neck, "I got excited. I didn't mean to do that so hard."

"No, I mean," she gasped as he kissed her lower, just below her collarbone area. Then he began to slip the strap off her shoulder and try to kiss down to her breast. "No!" she stopped him and pushed him away, "What do you think you are doing?"

Brad stood in front of her, his mouth agape. "What do you mean, 'what am I doing?' I'm doing what you said you would do last week!"

"You were planning on having sex with me. I never agreed to do that with you," Cameron replied, Azadah's warning ringing through her head.

"What are you talking about? You told me last week you wanted to…'come to my house.' I asked you over and over if you were ready for tonight! What the hell did you think I was talking about? You have crap for brains or something?" Brad nearly yelled.

"I did say I would come to your house, and I am here. I am sorry I did not know that was an innuendo, but no, I will not sleep with you, Brad Swanson."

"Hey!" Brad roughly gripped her shoulders, "If you're going to be with me, you are going to have to make me happy. I've done a lot of shit for you and put up with your awkwardness around my friends, I think you owe me something."

"Please let go of me," Cameron requested quietly, feeling more hurt than John had ever made her. "I never said that I would not sleep with you ever. But I was told that I should not have sex with someone if I am not in love with them."

"No! Now listen, I thought you were something special, so I waited three weeks…three fucking weeks!" he raged, planting a firm hand on the bedroom door.

_Perhaps you should,_ she debated with herself, _It might be necessary in order to keep him as a friend…no! No, I won't do that! _"Move away from the door," Cameron ordered, this time more sternly, "I don't want to hurt you."

Brad's scowl suddenly curled into a sly grin. "Oh…oh I get it. You almost had me fooled," he moved from the door, "so you like to dominate…like playing hard to get…that's cool with me. But, so do I, so this could get rough," he said as he roughly pulled down her strap again, this time nearly pulling her gown down enough to reveal her breasts. Cameron realized she had no choice.

"No, I'm not playing hard to get! I meant what I said, and I will not sleep with you!" she said. And with that, she easily slipped his hands of her shoulders and, with lightning quickness, grabbed his lapels in a death grip. She did not want to give away what she was, so she lifted him only an inch or so his feet and half pushed, half tossed him, causing Brad to go sprawling across the room and fall onto his bed. She glared at him as she shrugged the straps of her gown back onto her shoulders.

Brad was awestruck by Cameron's strength, but he did not suspect anything about her beyond thinking that she was awful strong for her small frame. He had no idea that Cameron had only used maybe ten percent of her full strength and he could have easily thrown him through the wall. At any rate, he was not to be deterred, but he knew he would have to take a different tactic.

"Okay," he said, forcing a smile, "Wait, Cameron!" he shot up as she began to open the door, "Wait, I'm sorry. I just got excited. I'm sorry I misinterpreted what you wanted," he pulled out a cooler from under his bed and produced two extra large bottles of Budweiser. This was his tradition after his first time with any girl normally, but sometimes, he used it for more devious operations.

"Let's just sit down and have a drink and we'll talk things over," Brad said, offering her one of the bottles.

"I am not supposed to drink. I'm underage," Cameron stated.

Brad laughed hysterically, "God, you're a piece of work, Cameron. Nobody gives a crap here. What, do you think we'll tell your parents?"

"No," Cameron was silently chiding herself for such a bad excuse.

"Well, then sit down and relax. We'll just talk, have a nice beer, just relex…" he handed her a bottle, "Relax."

Cameron scanned "Budweiser" in her files and found that it was a mass produced American lager, noted for its light body and thin taste. Always willing to try new food and drink, and a bit in denial of what just happened, Cameron accepted.

"There we go," Brad smiled, taking a gulp from his bottle, "Now, I'm willing to wait as long as you want before we do anything."

"It could be a long period of time," Cameron replied, taking a few gulps of beer. It was good, but not as good as chocolate. She would need to try different varieties.

"Trust me, I'm sure you'll loosen up a lot quicker than even what you think you will," Brad grinned.

Cameron took another large gulp of beer, this time scanning exactly what was going down her throat. _Water, hops, malt, rice, Rohphnol, lager yeast…wait…ROHPHNOL!_ She turned to Brad with a look of horror.

"You put Rohphnol in my beer!" she accused.

"Wait, I put _what_ in your beer?" Brad really did not know what that was though he knew he was caught.

"Rohphnol! Slang term: Roofies. You intended to rape me after I refused to have sex with you!" Cameron shot up and stared him down. _Be careful not to kill him or injure him badly. You have your orders…you have your orders, Cameron._ Suddenly she lashed out with a right hook, connecting with his cheek just below the eye and knocking him off the bed. Cameron had to fight every urge to lash out at full strength and put her hand _through_ this jerk's face, but even with this 5-strength punch, she felt his cheekbone click under her knuckle.

Brad was caught by complete surprise to say the least; he'd been slapped by girls before, and he had been punched by guys, but Cameron's hit felt like she was made of metal or something! He clutched his face as the pain set in. He felt wetness on his hands and he knew that Cameron had cut him. Already there was major swelling and he was afraid to look at it.

"Just so you know, I am not susceptible to Rohphnol or any date rape drug," Cameron's voice was like a frozen razor, "Goodbye, Brad Swanson."

"Hey…hey, Cameron!" he groaned, "Just think about what you're doing. You got nothing going for you except you're a hot piece of ass. That's all, you're a freak like your brother; you're fuckin…robot girl. That's what everyone calls you, you know? You could make people like you if you put out, but if you wanna be a prude like this, everyone's gonna know you're just a waste of good pussy."

Cameron looked at the floor as she took in what he said. He was right; she would have the reputation of a goody-goody weirdo…that was what she should have had since the beginning. How could she have been so stupid and careless? She felt like a horrible person and a worthless terminator.

"Wait, Cameron!" he held up his hand, groggily pulling himself off the floor, "I think you misunderstood. I wasn't planning on raping you. I wasn't…honest! That's just sick!"

"Then what were the Roofies for?" Cameron said, "Flavor? That would be a poor choice because it is a tasteless and odorless substance and it would cause loss of consciousness or at least inhibitions among most people. Therefore, I can conclude you put them in my drink so that you would be able to have sex that I would normally not consent to." Then, without another word, she walked out.

* * *

John had made his way down the bottom of the stairs, still breathing hard and feeling sicker and sicker. Then, he caught the wiff of some chicken wings that were being passed around and he hit his gag reflex. Clamping his hand over his mouth, he rushed for the bathroom just ahead of a guy who was ready to break the seal. Throwing the lid of the toilet open, he heaved his dinner, cake, and just about everything else in his body (or so it felt like) into the bowl. As his heaves turned dry, his legs gave out and he nearly put his head into the vomit filled bowl. However, John caught himself just in time and rolled over onto the floor next to the toilet.

"No," he moaned, "God, no. Cameron…you…damn it," he fought back tears of anger and frustrations as he pounded the floor with his fist.

"John?" Cheri hurried into the bathroom, concerned, "John, did you just throw up?"

It was embarrassing, and John had already flushed the toilet, but he decided to tell the truth, giving a short nod.

"Are you sick?" she asked.

"No," he shook his head, "Just…"

Cheri nodded before he could explain. She saw what Cameron did as well; this was just how John felt about her.

"She's a smart girl," she said, kneeling down to help John sit up, "I'm sure she took the proper precautions."

"I'm not worried about that," John mumbled, gritting his teeth, "It's just…her innocence is gone…exploited by…by…HIM," he gestured his thumb to the ceiling, "I can't believe it."

Cheri nodded again, "Maybe we should go. I'm not having much fun and neither are you."

John thought for a moment. His brain was saying that he should suggest going back to his house; Sarah and Derek were there, and that would be a deterrent from him going too far with her. On the other hand…if Cameron was getting some, why shouldn't he? His heart and hormones were ganging up on his brain, which decided to make the compromise of deciding how he felt on the way.

"Yeah, let's go," he said quietly, taking her hand as they left the bathroom.

"Yo, Baum, did you bang her on the can?" one kid yelled as they walked out, "That was like three minutes. Let me guess: That's never happened before," the boy waited as the group laughed at them, "so, how was that, Cheri?"

"Go fuck yourself," John growled, "'Cause that's all the action I'm sure you'll be getting. Let's go, Cheri."

But before they could take another step, Cameron swiftly descended the steps and made her way out the front door.

"Looks like Brad has the same problem," Cheri joked quietly.

"He put Roofies in my beer!" Cameron turned and yelled, silencing the crowd. Suddenly, everyone burst out laughing.

"Girl, if he gave you Roofies, he'd still be bangin' you!" Amanda yelled out.

"Crazy bitch!"

"Idiot!"

Cameron ignored all the insults being hurled at her as she continued on toward the truck.

"Shit," John shook his head. Just then, Brad came down the stairs. His face looked like he had just been smacked with a baseball bat. _I take that back,_ John thought, _it's okay._ He had been worried that Brad was laying upstairs in his room with a broken neck…if he even still had his head at all. But now, since he was alive…he had tried to give Cameron roofies! Naturally, the joke was on Brad since he did not know Cameron's nature, but that did not change what he did.

"This is getting bad. We'd better go, John," Cheri prompted.

"Not yet," he said quietly, walking toward the door.

"Yo, Baum!" Brad threw his arm around John's shoulders like they were old buddies, "Baum, man. How's the party? Getting wasted?"

"Nope, not yet," John said through his teeth as he watched out the front door to make sure Cameron did not take off with the truck and leave him stranded. Luckily, she went to the passenger side and looked for her black sweater, which she had obviously forgotten when Sarah took her here earlier in the day. John then turned back to Brad, not seeing Cameron pick up the tuxedo jacket that John had left on the driver's seat and taking out the envelope addressed to her that was poking out of the pocket.

"Well, you gotta get on it, man! You gotta get Cheri goin' too; the sex is better when you're wasted!" Brad gave him a playful punch in the arm.

"Yeah, maybe," John nodded as they walked out of the house and onto the porch. He shrugged Brad's arm off and squared up to the big quarterback. "So, what were you and Cameron doing? You get lucky, man?"

"Uh, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," Brad grinned sheepishly, "Look, your sister is really uptight, dude. I mean…"

"She give you that?" John pointed to the angry red swelling on Brad's cheek.

"Yeah, she…she overreacted," Brad replied, "Look, I was wondering if you could talk to her. She just doesn't seem to get that…well, this is prom night. You go to the prom so that you can get excited for afterward when you get smashed and screw each other's brains out. She's got this idea that she needs to be in love with me before she puts out and…I dunno, maybe you guys are old fashioned or something, but damn, I'm getting blue balls, John, and I've been putting up with her shit for the past month. I haven't even jerked off for the past three days because I was waiting for this. You gotta explain that to her."

John nodded, "I can see…" they both glanced over at Cameron as she walked around the side of the house, hanging her head. Brad's parents had a porch swing set up in the yard, and Cameron decided to sit down there. She looked up at John and Brad with mournful eyes.

"I understand you wanna get laid. I know, she's different…I am too, it's just the way our family is. But," he put his left hand on Brad's shoulders, "what's this she was screaming about you putting Roofies in her drink? I mean, yeah, people get laid on prom night, but does it really count if one of them is passed out? I think that's rape, Brad. And I'm not too cool with that."

Brad forced a nervous chuckle, "John…" he shook his head, "John, you're overreacting, man! You both are! I wasn't planning on knocking her out and violating her. I just gave her a little something…just a little bit to help loosen her up. You see, she really wants me, I know she does, I can see it, she wants me to do her, but she's just nervous. I just wanted to her to chill out a little so that she would be able to do what she really wanted to do, that's all."

_You gotta admire his balls, John,_ John thought. Still, "Well, if that's all you were going to do…" before Brad could react, John shot out his right elbow, connecting with Brad's already wounded cheek in a sickening smack. This hit was so hard it broke the skin again, sending a spray of blood across the porch as Brad went sprawling across the porch and tumbled into the garden.

Shocked, Cameron shot out of her seat. "John, no!"

John jumped off the porch and delivered a swift kick to Brad's solar plexus, knocking every square inch of breath from his lungs. John nearly cringed at the pain he had delivered to Brad as the self-centered jock lay on the ground gasping for breath. He waited for a moment as Brad struggled to breathe.

"Get up," John growled, "Get on your feet. Quit crying like a bitch and act like a man!"

Slowly, Brad grabbed a hold of the edge of the porch and pulled himself to his feet to face John. This was not what he expected at all. The school freak had just kicked his ass. Many people in the party had filed out the door to see John standing, fists clenched, over the school hero.

"You son of a bitch!" Brad wheezed as he shifted his feet to steady himself for the fight, "You just made…a big freakin' mistake, Baum!" With a grunt, he threw a vicious haymaker, but he only met with John's forearm.

With quickness that would impress a terminator, John knocked the punch out of the way, drew his leg up and slammed a sidekick into Brad's sternum, knocking him back about five feet and onto his back. John was pretty sure he did not cause any more major damage other than maybe a small crack in the ribs, but he was sure that Brad was out of the fight. He stalked over to Brad, who was once again laying on the ground, holding his aching chest, now realizing that John Baum had good reason to not be intimidated at all by him.

"You're lucky, you know that?" John snarled, "She would have killed you…I'm not joking either, she seriously could have taken your life away. Now, I want you to go over and apologize to Cameron and thank her for not killing you."

Brad did not have to go far, however, as Cameron had moved quickly over to the fight to make sure that nobody ended up dead (or that Brad did if he threatened John's life). He staggered to his feet again, feeling complete defeat, and looked at the ground.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

"What are you sorry for?" John said, folding his arms, "And look her in the eye so she knows you're sincere."

"I'm sorry I tried to force you to have sex with me. I'm sorry for putting Roofies in your drink."

"And?" John insisted.

"Thank you for not killing me," Brad finished.

Cameron nodded, "I accept your apology," she said, "But I don't wish to ever speak to you again, Bradford James Swanson." She then looked at John and gave him a quick smile. Then, ashamed, she looked at the ground. "John, can we please go home?"

"We were just about to," John replied, nodding to Cheri to go ahead and get in the truck, "Do you need to get anything inside?"

"No."

"Okay, then. Good luck with those blue balls, Brad," John said with almost no emotion as they walked away.

"If you're not going to Cheri's house, I want to talk to you, John," Cameron said quietly as they walked to the car, "I have a lot of things I need to say."


	23. Because I Still Love You

Because I Still Love You

Because I Still Love You

Very little was said on the way to Cheri's house. Cameron sat in the back seat though Cheri offered to give her shotgun; she wanted to read John's letter over and over while she thought about her response.

"Brad tried to get me to sleep with him a couple months ago. I knew he had a girlfriend at the time though," Cheri said, "I was tempted though. Don't feel bad, Cam. Some men," she looked at John, "just affect our hormones somehow."

Cameron nodded.

"Are you going to be okay tonight?" Cheri asked.

Again, Cameron just nodded. She knew John's nature, and that he was pretty observant. Cameron could also sense that Cheri was giving off heavy pheromones which John would have trouble resisting. She would have to talk to him in the morning, after he had spent the night with Cheri; it was John Connor's nature…wasn't it? Then again, Cameron knew she _should_ be there to protect him…of course, that was a double standard, wasn't it? She shook her head as she thought about the old mantra: _I'm always there for John when I need him._ But for the past three weeks, whenever _she_ wanted to go somewhere else, she neglected her duties. She knew why, but she was not going to tell John, but she was going to accept the consequences of John abandoning her when she wanted him there. She deserved it.

"Here we go," John said as they pulled into the Westins' driveway.

Cheri gave him a dazzling smile, "I had a fun time at the prom; maybe not so much at the party…but I loved the prom."

"Me too," John lied. He liked spending time with Cheri as she was a nice, very pretty girl, but tonight was just too much for him. He got out of the truck and walked around to the passenger side to let his date out, but Cheri got out of the truck first.

"John," Cameron motioned for him to come closer as she climbed into the front seat, "I'll just drive home if you want. You can stay…" she trailed off as Cheri took John's arm and led him toward the house.

When they got to the door, Cheri turned to John and slide her arm around the back of his neck. "So," she said, giving him a seductive look, "You're still staying here tonight, right?"

John glanced over at Cameron in the truck as he weighed his instincts against his morals. _Lead us not into temptation_, he recited in his mind, _But what if she's the one? What if you find out tonight? What if you're blowing it right here?_

"No," he shook his head, "I can't do that to Cameron. She needs me tonight."

"Come on. Think about you…I know how you are, and I know what you want," Cheri leaned in and closed her eyes, but John would not have it.

"No," he said just as her lips touched his, sending a jolt through his body, "I can't. I mean…I want to, don't get me wrong, but I can't do that. She'll probably chew my ass out for something, but I can't just send her home like that." He backed up a bit and tenderly removed her arm.

Cheri nodded, obviously a little disappointed, but understanding. "Dad was wrong," she said, "Very wrong. You're not who we thought you were. Either that or everything we thought was false."

"Wait, what…who did you think I was?" John said, trying not to sound like he was caught.

"I uh…well, do you promise not to tell?" Cheri said in a near whisper.

"Yeah, of course."

"You look kind of like my boyfriend from my old school. He was a psycho and he started stalking me. He like…knew everywhere I was going to be and my dad got really paranoid…especially about you since you look like him. He thought you _were_ him but that you made yourself look different…I dunno, it sounds paranoid doesn't it?"

So, it wasn't about the future. She was hiding; that was why she was standoffish. "Well," John considered this, "I can understand that. You can never be too careful. My mom always says, 'no one is ever safe,'" he waited for a response but Cheri was too busy looking into his eyes, evidently debating the situation with herself, "If you ever feel like you're in danger…you know, you can always call me. I've dealt with some nutcases before so I'd be willing to help you. Cameron too."

"I appreciate that," she leaned forward again and kissed him on the cheek, then looked down, obviously disappointed, "You're a good man, John, and I would have liked to have been more than friends, but I don't know if I can compete with Cameron."

"What?"

"You," Cheri looked him in the eye, "You guys have a special bond, and from the sound of it, you don't have much room in your life for anyone else right now."

"Cheri, I…" John thought for a moment. Yeah, maybe he was not all that interested in her, but in the typical teenage mindset, he was worried that he was burning his bridges. "Don't worry about that, I…"

"Let's just stop here," Cheri said quietly, "I don't either of us to say or do something we'll regret. I treasure our friendship, John, but I think that's all it is right now until you can settle everything in your life; I think you know that too."

John hesitated, but he nodded, "So…friends?" _not with benefits,_ he thought.

"Friends," she replied with a smile. She threw her arms around his neck again, and he embraced her back.

"'Night," he said as he released her and walked away.

"'Night."

Cameron could not believe what had just transpired. This was completely against what she had expected. The John she knew in the future would have never turned down an offer like that unless it interfered with a mission. She knew that she completely misjudged John; now, there was a battle between her newfound prideful attitude and her newfound guilt. She wrestled with this the entire way home, only finally speaking just before they got to their street.

"You…you probably would have had sex if you had gone with Cheri," she stated simply.

"I know…that's why I didn't go. I don't want to fall into that trap and turn into…well, you know," he replied, "That's only part of the reason. I wasn't going to make you come home alone to Mom and Derek when you've already had a crappy night."

"I see. Thank you for explaining," she said, staring straight forward.

When they pulled into the driveway and John turned off the motor, Cameron slumped down in her seat, shaking her head in disgust.

"You should just disassemble me. Throw me in the incinerator and melt me down…let me see it too. I should watch myself die," she murmured.

"What? Cameron, this was one guy and he was a jerk. Don't let…"

"No, that's not it," Cameron said, her voice cracking a bit, "I don't care. I'm disappointed about Brad a little bit, but that's it. It's just," her eyes seemed to water a bit, "I'm a bad terminator and a horrible person. After the way I have treated you for the past three weeks, and yet you still stand up for me tonight on principal alone…just so I would know that someone was there for me…and the fact that I ignored or forgot all the times you did that for me with Derek and Sarah. Then, I called you a freak tonight and acted like _I_ had some kind of right to call someone else a freak…"

"Cameron," John put his hand gently on his shoulder, "This is my fault. I was a jackass and I was selfish, remember? You were being tore apart and I just started bitching about my life, then I tried to ask you out and didn't even think about you."

"Maybe I was justified in being angry then, and turning you down, but I took the situation way too far," for the first time ever, a tear ran down her cheek, "I'm a stupid tin bitch. Just a glorified trash can, like your uncle says."

"No, don't say that about yourself!" John said, feeling his heart sink. He hated to hear Cameron disparage herself like that when he thought so highly of her.

"I'm sorry, but I'm just so angry at myself. I started taking all the new things I was feeling and let it make me conceited. Not only that, I was negligent in my duties. You could have been killed and it would have been my fault.

"Now I think that even Azadah doesn't want to be my friend because I was mean to her too. And," she showed John the letter she had been holding in her clenched fist, "You both knew that I was being irrational and cruel. And you…you still stood beside me. And…and I know it wasn't just because you wanted to have sex with me, because if it was, you would have taken the easier option and spent the night with Cheri."

John stopped and thought, "Maybe this will be what saves me from becoming my future self. Because I always knew what was right and wrong about this kind of stuff, but I could never do it now that I've seen what it does to someone I care about when someone else does it…and I don't want to be a hypocrite.

"But I wouldn't have dated me either," he shook his head, "I did what I did tonight because I still love you and always will. But…well…that doesn't change what I did before to you. You have every right to hate me."

"No!" Cameron turned to him, choking back a sob, "John, you made mistakes and said hurtful things, but I did too. I said you weren't worth saving, and that was a lie, and I knew it when I said it, and I only said it because I was angry and I wanted to hurt you. I was so hurt and depressed after I got yelled at by Sarah and Derek that I took it out on you, because I knew you were the only one who cared about me and I knew that you would be the only one who would care that I was angry at him. I had some glitch in my system and I took over eighty percent of the negative things said to me and attributed them to you. But tonight, I recompiled and noticed that of the things you've said to me, over eighty-five percent of them have been actually either positive or flattering. Over the past three weeks, I," she decided not to give the actually statistics, "I thought and said a lot of bad things about you, but you still forgave me. I should have forgiven you."

"Do you forgive me now?" John asked.

"Yes, of course I do," Cameron replied quickly, "I want to be your friend again. Do you forgive me?"

"Yes, I forgive you. Don't think anything bad about yourself, Cameron, because I don't," John kept staring at floor as he tried to choose his words and balance his feelings of guilt, relief, and growing happiness that Cameron's vendetta with him seemed to be just about over, "I guess we both learned some lessons. I think I'm a bit wiser now, and I think you are on your way to succeeding in your second primary mission," he said.

"I think so too. But I wish I hadn't done it like this. I really didn't do anything; you did it yourself. I was ready to give up for no reason other than…" she fell against the back of the seat and laid against the headrest, choking back sobs, her eyes filled with tears, "no reason at all."

They locked eyes and John took a deep breath. He really wished they had not taken the cover of brother and sister; he wished they gone to the prom together, and he wished that he had never done any of the things that caused Cameron to hurt like this. If only she had been able to learn these things the easy way. What could he say to her now? She was totally blaming herself, and he was totally blaming himself. This would go in circles and John was worried that he would end up saying something stupid. Perhaps, he thought, it would be best to move on.

He smiled at her. Even with her makeup running a little bit and the sadness on her face, she was beautiful. Well, she was always beautiful naturally, but she was exceptional right now John thought. "You look absolutely…perfect tonight," he said, "You should have been the prom queen."

The hurt and shame Cameron felt began to melt away with those words. Her teary eyes started to fill up with happiness and a smile crept across her face. She did not know what to say to that. Those words were honest and intended for no other reason than to make her feel worthwhile and loved. She turned around in her seat and leaned over onto John. "Hold me," she said quietly, laying her head under his chin and putting her arms around him.

Trying not to react eagerly, he wrapped her up tightly in his arms, taking in the smell of her hair and the warmth of her skin, glad that the time of troubles that they had been through was ending this way. A feeling like a warm breeze ran through his body as Cameron sighed and smiled, letting out a quiet, but happy moan. For about two minutes, neither of them spoke as they sat holding one another. They were best friends again, and John was even more in love with her than before. He hoped someday she would return his affection, but for now, he would enjoy this moment, and he would be the best he could be for her and let Cameron make the decision in her own time.

"So, we're starting over again?" Cameron finally said.

"No, we can't do that," John replied. A little worried, Cameron loosened her hold and looked up at him, but when saw his smile, she relaxed. "However," he continued, "we can start new with lessons learned; I love you too much to deal with that again."

"Me too," Cameron replied, almost in a whisper, laying her head back down under his chin and embracing him tighter. Again, neither of them spoke; John gently rubbed her back and Cameron's choked sniffles were replaced with deep breaths as she closed her eyes and relaxed. A minute later, she opened her eyes and looked up at John, "Derek is sleeping in my room tonight and my energy is at about forty-three percent, so I'll need sleep tonight. Do you want to pull out the hide-away bed in the living room and fall asleep to a movie?"

"I'd love to," John said. That was perfect; he would get to spend time with her, and they would be in a position where neither Derek nor Sarah would be suspicious. Plus, he was exhausted.

"Okay, you don't mind me taking a shower first, do you? I want to get this spray out of my hair," Cameron shook her head a little bit to emphasize the point that it was getting uncomfortable.

"Not a problem."

When they got into the house, John went directly to his room, undressed, and threw his tux on the bed. He knew his mom would probably get on him about not immediately putting it on a hanger and back in the rental bag, but right now he was too tired, and too excited to finally hang out with Cameron again.

"What the hell are you doing here?" John heard Derek tiredly ask Cameron as she gathered a change of clothes from her room to take into the bathroom.

"I live here," Cameron replied.

"You're not alive, so you don't _live_ here."

"Don't start with me, Derek. It's too late for this."

_Jeez, she's getting very good at talking normal,_ John thought with a smile.

"Fine, why aren't you at the party? And where's John?" Derek asked.

"John is in his room, and we left because Brad wanted to have sex with me, and I did not want to, so then he tried to put a date rape drug in my drink. John beat him up when he found out because I was ordered not to kill or severely injure anyone. John's date is back at her house, and I am now going to take a shower and then John and I are going to watch a movie on the couch because my bed is currently occupied. Does that answer all your questions?"

"Whatever; you should have just screwed him and not caused a fuss," John heard Derek say as he rolled over.

With a sigh, Cameron went across the hall to the bathroom and shut the door. John slipped on a pair of athletic shorts and threw on a t-shirt as he walked down the hall.

Cameron took a little longer in the shower than she usually did, but that was okay as it gave John time to pick out a few movie choices for her, make some stovetop popcorn, pull out the hide-away bed, and get some pillows and blankets. He clicked on the TV and was nearly deafened as it was turned up all the way.

"SHIIIIIT!" he hissed as he frantically clicked the volume button down till it was a little bit quieter than usual. Derek was probably watching some action movie and felt the need to let the neighborhood know as usual. John listened to make sure that nobody else was disturbed; Sarah had already been in a strangely good mood for most of the day and being woken up at 1:30 a.m. could easily change that. However, there was only the faint sound of Cameron pulling the shower curtain back, evidently finished with her cleansing.

A few minutes later, she came down the stairs (quietly like Sarah had told her a million times) dressed in one of John's borrowed t-shirts and pajama pants. Her hair was still wet and, with her makeup off, she looked tired.

"That felt really good," she commented, "I feel relaxed now."

"Good," John replied, "hey, I'm just curious, how many times and how long have you slept since you started…sleeping?"

"It started out about four hours every two days, but recently, I've been feeling more emotionally drained more often, so it's been almost every night—plus, I get bored at night—though I'm still capable of going about seventy-two hours without rest and still functioning at one hundred percent physically. Still, I've found myself more irritable on times when I don't sleep; the same thing goes for when I don't eat. Also, I don't have to initiate sleep mode anymore. It's kind of automatic now and happens gradually, like your sleep pattern. But, I can end it immediately if I'm disturbed."

"I see," John nodded, "How about your CPU? Has the power level of that decreased every time you sleep?"

"Yes, it has. Since Wednesday, though, it's been steady, but my brain is apparently functioning at fifty-two percent and my CPU is at forty-eight percent."

A pang of worry hit John, "will it end up going down to zero and basically…make you brain dead?"

"No," Cameron shook her head, "it's coming back as, 'needed information output and input,' so its decreased activity is simply due to my brain becoming more active. It's a good thing. But I don't want to talk about my CPU right now," she glanced over at the DVDs, "I've seen all those."

"I know, I figured it would be easier to fall asleep to a movie we've seen before," John reasoned, taking a handful of popcorn.

"That's logical, but I don't think I want to watch any of those, no offense. They strike too close to home as the saying goes."

"Why?" John asked, trying not too laugh in case she was still feeling sensitive.

"Back to the Future talks about time travel and makes me think too much, since we've done it. Aliens has Bishop the android, and he and Ripley's relationship is too much like me and Sarah. The Matrix is about machines that take over the world. And…well I guess Star Wars is okay, but I don't want things about the future and advanced artificial intellegences and…"

"Okay," John put the DVDs back, "How about something more historical? Can we watch The Mask of Zorro?"

"I like that movie, let's watch that," Cameron agreed, plopping herself down on the bed and grabbing a handful of popcorn.

A few moments later, the movie was up and running, and John had crawled under the covers and gotten comfortable. Cameron and he finished off the popcorn relatively quickly, wiping their hands on the backrest of the sofa like Sarah had told John (and Derek) many times not to do. Putting the bowl aside, Cameron moved her pillow till it was touching John's and moved over to snuggle close with him. John's heart skipped a beat as he felt the terminator girl's warm body against his. Gently, he put his arm around her and pulled her close, which she seemed to like.

John felt like he was going to start drifting off soon, but then he felt Cameron's soft lips on her cheek. Again, he felt a jolt, but was able to will himself not to react too much. He turned to see her smiling face, which caused him to break into a smile. He reached up and stroked her face with his fingers, which Cameron really seemed to like: a sign of his great affection and admiration for her. He wanted to…he wanted to so bad, and Cameron knew it.

"It's okay, John, you can if you want," she said, nearly whispering.

"I…no, only when you're ready and you want to," he replied.

"Please, I want you to."

He leaned and lightly kissed her on the lips. Before he could pull back, he felt Cameron's lips increase tension, so he followed suit, feeling as though he were melting into her. Then they separated, gazing happily at one another. The kiss had only lasted about two seconds, but to John, it might as well have been a year.

"That was to let you know…I still love you," he said.

Cameron did not reply. She simply widened her smile and pulled herself closer to John and laid her head on his shoulder, which was the only answer he needed. What kind of love it was did not matter at the moment.

_This is not the end...not by a longshot. _

_ However, it might be longer than usual from now on between chapter updates. Most of these chapters were written over a period of about a month and a half and had not been uploaded due to technical problems, this is the last bit of material I have in surplus, so I'm going to have to continue writing soon._

_Anyway, thank you to all who have followed, complimented, and critiqued my story. I'll keep feeding you all as I get time to complete new chapters._

_I will give you all a heads up from here. The story will take a bit of a theological/supernatural turn. I hope you're all up for that. Don't worry, I'm not going to change the terminator universe or introduce ghosts or anything, and I certainly will not change or downplay the romance, but...well, keep reading and you'll find out!_

Next: Deus in Machina II: Decens Humanus


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